WATER TRUCKS & CISTERNS IN HYDERABAD

Water Truck Parked on Private Property in Hyderabad

To my drought-ridden California friends!

Among my more surprising discoveries here in Hyderabad was the purpose of the water tanker trucks that I kept seeing everywhere in traffic and parked on vacant lots. Upon asking, I learnt that, while Greater Hyderabad does have municipal water pipes, the water in them flows only intermittently – maybe one hour a day and not even every day.

To compensate, the Greater Hyderabad Municipal Corporation provides water to residents via water trucks. Residents reserve a truckload, pay a token, and are informed when their delivery is scheduled. The water then gets pumped into underground holding tanks.

This water is for all household purposes, incl. drinking. To turn this trucked-in water into healthy potable water, many people install reverse osmosis units in their homes or businesses.

To people who do not have a registered residence, e.g., slum dwellers living in makeshift huts, water is delivered free of charge, which they store in buckets and other containers.

Water Truck Leaving the HMI Property

To my great surprise, both Henry Martyn Institute and our residence complex participate in this system of water delivery. It took me many questions to begin comprehending the system. Finally, I even watched a truck leave the HMI compound and located one of the two HMI water cisterns.

I still may not fully understand how the system works, but tam thinking that even this bit of information might give you a better picture of life here in Hyderabad.

One of two Underground Water Cisterns at HMI

CHARIS LUTHERAN CHURCH, TENALI, A.P., INDIA

I have attended worship services in a wide range of locales – in very large churches, in tiny churches, in parks, on beaches, and on mountains, but never did I worship in a sanctuary building that was in its early stages of construction, yet fully functioned as a house of worship. I bet most of you won’t have done either. Let me tell you, therefore, a bit about worship at Charis Lutheran Church in Tenali this morning. 

Charis Lutheran Church, Krupavaram Comp, Tenali, India

Charis Lutheran Church is a new congregation. It is located at “Krupavaram Compound,” a former mission compound owned by Andhra Evangelical Lutheran Church (AELC) which is now leased to a private college.

The congregation’s pastor is Rev. David Emmanuel, the same newly-wed, first call pastor and graduate of Andhra Christian Theological College (ACTC) in Hyderabad whose house blessing I attended a few days ago. The congregation has two worship services, the first mostly attended by the college’s residential students, the second by a more mixed-age congregation. 

Rev. David Emmanuel

The worship service followed a typical Lutheran liturgical format – it even had the obligatory announcements. The lessons were lectionary-based, albeit on a different lectionary than the used by most ELCA congregations. The singing was led by a choir and a drummer. The sermon was markedly longer than US congregations might tolerate. I was told that a typical sermon lasts at least 30 minutes.

I was fortunate in that this was the first Sunday of the month and communion was celebrated. In the absence of an altar rail, those receiving communion gathered in a line in front of the altar, sorting themselves into women on the left and men on the right. I was handed a wafer that, just like US communion wafers, annoyingly sticks to the roof of one’s mouth. The “wine” was very viscous, sweet grape syrup, distributed in individual cups which communion assistants afterwards collected in water-filled bowls.

So far, so good.  Now let’s look a bit at things that were different.  First of all, the buildings had no walls yet.  It did not even have plastered surfaces, paved ground, pews, or permanent pulpit and altar fixtures. The ground was compacted dirt. The congregation sat on a variety of chairs, school desks, plastic chairs, and even plastic tarp. Throughout the worship service, the surroundings were in full view and hearing. I could not help but notice construction supplies, the college classroom buildings, plants, birds, butterflies, and neighborhood noises and chants.

Footwear Taken off upon Entering the Sanctuary

Upon entering the sanctuary, I removed my foot ware, just as is customary in any place of worship in India, whether Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Buddhist, or Christian.

Woman mostly sat on one side of the sanctuary, men mostly on the other side. A group of young women in matching sarees – the choir – sat on the tarps that were spread out between the altar and the first row of chairs.

The pastor wore a white alb, covered by a matching cassock and a seasonal green stole. He used a wired mike throughout the service. The wiring seemed rather impromptu but safe enough for the attendees.

Both the pulpit and altar were built from rough pieces of wood, hidden by hand-made green paraments. The altar sat on a platform that slightly elevated it.  On top of the altar were the “usual” liturgical items – communionware covered by a veil, a cross, and flowers.  Behind the altar, a large white sheet of fabric was hung to cover up the bare concrete wall.

Afterwards, I learnt that – in small congregations such as this one – the offering collected is handed to the pastor as his (rather meager) salary.  Any other needs (such as charity or building improvements and repairs) are taken care of via separate offerings.

Women Would Cover their Heads with the Saree During Prayers

All in all, by North American standards, the church looked more like a construction site than a finished sanctuary. The surprising part is that none of this mattered. I never felt that I was surrounded by a construction site, but sitting in a house of worship. What mattered were the music, the concentration of the worshippers, the young women and children’s smiles, and the message that the pastor extracted from the day’s Scripture lessons. From the few words of Telugu, some English snippets, and the occasional translation provided to me by my niece and nephew, I gathered that Pr. David was talking about faith as trust in God, based mostly on the Scripture readings for the day (2 Sam 22:21-29, Romans 10:4-18, Luke 7:36-50).

So – did I attend worship and was the Word of God proclaimed? You betcha!

JOURNEY INTO SMALL-TOWN SOUTH INDIA

With furniture quotes for our yet unfurnished Hyderabad rental home sent off to the ELCA Global Missions offices, there suddenly was not so much to do at this point other than wait. So, when my brother-in-law Sam suggested that we trade our hostel room for a few days for a room in his family's new home in the nearby town of Tenali (located in the adjacent state of Andhra Pradesh) we gladly accepted.

But now the problem of transportation arose. Most people do not own cars; so trains and buses are the primary long-distance modes of travel. I quickly learned that there's no way to book seats on an AC train compartment at a day's notice. Non-AC travel - with its crowded and unhygienic conditions -  wasn't an option, I had learned from past experience. Bus travel - for reasons that I do not understand - got ruled out as well. This is when a friend of my in-laws offered to drive us in his car. Could you imagine this in the US to happen? Someone dropping all  of his work commitments to drive people whom he hardly knew for some 6-7 hours, then returning home, so that he would make it back home in time for a very important business meeting the next day? I am still overwhelmed by the warmth and kindness we keep encountering. Ties of friendship and kinship are strong here; in fact, they often are the only thing that helps things function in a context of heavy demand, yet limited resources. 

For about half of the distance, we traveled on pleasant highways with -  thanks to many toll road stretches - fairly light traffic. Had it not been for the car's manual transmission, even I might have managed driving the car. Once we descended from the Deccan Plateau, we drove amongst small towns and farmland. We must have passed at least 1/2 million of sheep and goats, some of which shared the highway with us. There were the obligatory cows, non-perturbed by the traffic and contently munching on plants growing on the elevated road divider. Green fields, fertile soil, and the occasional outcroppings of massive rock flew by. Eventually, urban traffic congestion caught up with us again in the city of Vijayavada. 

Finally, we arrived in Tenali, where, off and on over the past 17 years, I have spent many weeks combined, as this is where my late mother-in-law resided. Tenali - with its mere 200,000+ residents, is considered a small town by Indian standards. I saw some familiar sights - familiar market stalls and the obligatory statues of political leaders. While Hyderabad is working on a new metro system in time for the next statewide elections, in Tenali bicycle rickshaws still to exist and continue to serve as important means of local commercial and passenger transportation. 

AELC Pastor, Rev. Mary Virginia, presiding at house blessing in Tenali, India

Once we arrived at our destination, I was informed that a neighboring Lutheran pastor and his young wife had moved into his new apartment earlier that day. They were getting ready for a house blessing ... and Anna and I were invited to attend. When we got there, the small living room was filled to capacity by guests sitting in a circle of plastic chairs who were singing Telugu hymns. Their leader was an AELC (Andhra Evangelical Lutheran Church) pastor, clad in a white alb, who had been among the first group of AELC women ordained to the pastoral ministry some 12 years ago. Now, I learned, there are 14 AELC "lady pastors," called mostly to specialized ministries and expected to remain unmarried. 

I had met Pr. Mary Virginia previously, but never seen her function in a liturgical context. We quickly made eye contact and the connection between us two women clergy seemed palpable. There were prayers and speeches, references to my late mother-in-law, her deep faith, and her exemplary spiritual leadership. Occasionally I was able to catch a word or phrase of Telugu or a familiar name - for instance when one of the guests reminisced about having taught my husband in Sunday school class. When all else failed, body language or giggles sufficed to convey meaning. As might have been expected, this guest from faraway lands got asked to say a few words, to which I happily complied. The event concluded with the Lord's Prayer (in Telugu), a benediction, and a pot of milk made to boil over on the kitchen stove ... symbolizing the blessings for which we had asked in prayer before.

Everywhere I went since my arrival in India, expressions of faith seem to abound. Many organized religious groups in the U.S. ponder the rising numbers of "nones," those who declared "no religious affiliation" during the latest US census. In stark contrast, "nones" appear to be in short supply here in India. I participated in conversations among other HMI hostel guests about this topic. To the people that I talked with, a life devoid of worship or god makes little sense. Some expressed their utter astonishment at poorly-attended worship services in grand historic European and North American sanctuaries and the conversion of sacred church properties to cultural centers or  commercial real estate. 

In contrast, here in India religion is everywhere. It is in the cows that claim their space on highways, intersections, market stalls, and even train platforms. To Hindus they are imbued with divine qualities. Religion is in the noisy Hindu processions that hold up traffic and blast chants over loudspeakers. Religion is in the ubiquitous Muslim calls for prayer. Muslims make up around 10 percent of India's population (much, much more in certain Hyderabad neighborhoods), but mosques are everywhere. Religion is in Christian hospitals, schools, and house-church prayer gatherings. Religion is in ways of dressing, in colorful powdery marks adorning foreheads and hair partings. Religion, faith, and worship are what appears to make life bearable, what offers solace and hope in the face of scarcity, uncertainty, or despair. Religion is what gives personal and collective identity and meaning to one's existence. Yet, it is also the source of conflict and violence, as we know just all too well. 

More than ever, this excursion into small-town life is making me curious how Henry Martin Institute and its motto ("The goal peace. The lens justice. The instrument reconciliation") do fit into this culture and how I might accompany the organization in its mission and be of service in a small way.

OUR NEW HOME - HYDERABAD

We safely arrived in Hyderabad on July 31. The contrast between the postings of other ELCA new missionaries who arrived at their new homes and ourselves is rather stark. We have more jetlag. More bureaucracy to get things done. Way more people everywhere. Cows on the road. Peacock sounds and snakes in the garden. No cute medieval, renaissance, or baroque architecture. Not even an apartment with a fully-equipped kitchen that's waiting for us nearby. Big contrast between hi-tech palaces, humungous private villas, and shopping malls on the one hand and roadside slums and roadside stalls for household items and food on the other.

Everything takes MUCH longer than in the US. It took virtually all day to visit our new home, eat lunch, and visit 3 furniture stores. I was told by two of Kumar's nephews that in order to get to an appointment elsewhere in the city one has to leave 2 3/4 hours before (!) to get there on time. They said one can manage to run one big errand a day. No more.

At the same time, though, we have survived thus far because of the kindness of relatives and their friends who drove us around, arranged "post-paid" cell phone service, and because of the delicious food at the HMI hostel and the hostel rooms that were waiting for us. The really scary part will still come when all the relatives and friends are gone and Anna and I will stay at the house by ourselves, ready to begin work at Henry Martyn Institute and school at the International School of Hyderabad.