December 1972

Dear friends.

Greetings in Jesus' wonderful name from Nagpur, India.

Since it is almost Christmas I thought to combine my Christmas greetings to you with a little bit of information as to what I am up to these days.

As you can see we have at last settled down in India. The Lord willing we will have made an initial dialect survey before the holidays. Things do go slow out here, but there is nothing we can do to hasten them along. However the time is not wasted, for it gives us additional opportunities to study Hindi in a, partially, Hindi speaking environment. We also have a first hand opportunity to observe Indian cultures and customs.

I have traveled quite a bit since my last News Letter. Traveling in India for an economically minded person is far from comfortable. When I finally settled down in Nagpur and had time to look myself over I came to the conclusion that Joseph's coat of many colors couldn't have been more colorful than mine, only - I couldn't take mine off. I never realized how big I really was till every inch of my body sent out a separate SOS signal - now I know. Yet in spite of all these "sufferings" I find India to be a most fascinating place. The main attraction are however not its numerous beauty spots, but its people. One is certainly justified in saying that Indian people run every gamut imaginable. There seems to be no conformity in character, personality or even outward style, manner or dress. One man will wrap his cloth around skirt wise as a Lungi, while another man will wrap it around and between his legs as a dhoti. Some walk around in wide, baggy, white or striped pajama pants, still others in modern western flare pants or simply in shorts, while yet others are satisfied with a loincloth.

Children, especially in small towns or villages, are frequently attired in "bare skins". These ways of dressing and the great variety of headdress are often but an outward sign of greater inner differences in region, caste, religion or even education. Yet in spite of all these differences all belong to this "unity" called India. It is oft difficult to understand that the well educated linguist who teaches at one of India's many universities is a country man to the illiterate village dweller. Can the professional beggar, filthy, unkempt, flea-bitten, forever with outstretched hand whining for "baksheesh", often purposely maimed as a child by either parents or guardians, to ensure a better "income", can such a person belong to the same country as the well-dressed, well groomed Brahman, who walks through filth as if it didn't exist? Fascinating, to me, also is the seeming absence of privacy, for with the exception of the exchange of affection between members of the opposite sex, Indians do almost everything in full view of everybody.

Besides bathing, brushing their teeth and doing some less nice things, Indians will sit on the sidewalk to get a shave or a haircut. To some the sidewalk is their place of work and to some it is the only home they know. A great deal of buying and selling - and haggling over prices - goes on in front of little stalls some daring souls sometimes call shops. Clothes are washed outdoors by slapping them against flat stones or beating them with pieces of wood -this brings back scenes of my childhood, only I wasn't permitted to take my clothes off during the process of beating. Vacant stretches of land will burst into "bloom" when the "dhobi", washer man, lays all those beautiful saris and other colorful pieces of clothing out in the sun, on the ground to dry. The only time I don't enjoy India's fascinating millions is when I go downtown on my new motor bike (a 250 cc Jawa, made in India). Everybody thinks he is sole owner of the road; this includes also all kinds of animals. A little while back I almost ran over a monkey in downtown Nagpur. Going to town is like going through a department store during business hours. It seems that everybody suffers from the illusion that the right-o-way is his; needless to say that the "sufferings" quite frequently leave the world of abstracts such as illusions and enters into the realm of broken bones due to contact with concrete and asphalt.      

Anyhow as you can see I am still alive and well. Have a real good Christmas and a very happy New Year.

Till next time.

Yours sincerely in Christ

Frank