March 1976

Hi

Greeting in Jesus, name from Nagpur, India.

Since it is generally assumed, and justly so, that the dead don't contact the living without their express desire, and then even rarely, it follows that I am still alive. Furthermore I am also still happy, healthy and. at least as sane as I was when you saw me last.

I had a good time in Germany. They really fattened me up. I got rather outstanding. On one occasion, while waiting for a bus in front of a school, a woman came up to me and asked me,  "Are you waiting for your child?" I replied “No, I've just gained weight". Well I am doing penance and if I stay long enough in India I might have to drink ink in order to become visible again.

Our trip to India by car took us 20 days and we covered ca. 7000 miles. We picked up a fourth member, Peter Hausemann, at the German Home office for Wycliffe.

We left Aachen, my hometown in Germany, on Jan. the 8th. I like to cover the trip under the rough' headings of roads, road users, weather, and customs. Time and space will permit only a sketchy report, but I nevertheless will try to hit the highlights.

The roads were comparatively speaking good. After Austria there were no more Freeways only regular highways. Through Austria the roads were quite winding though we didn't have to cross any high mountain passes. In Yugoslavia the highways were straight and we traveled through rather flat country. This held true also for Bulgaria and even up to Istanbul.  East of Istanbul, Turkey, the road again began to twist and turn, not only sideways, but also up and down. This carried on till we got about 100 miles east of Teheran. Though, there were intermittent stretches where the terrain was more or less flat. Then up to Kabul, Afghanistan, the road once again became rather straight and while the area was quite hilly the climbs were gradual. I think we once went over a 9000 foot pass.  From Kabul to Peshawar, Pakistan, we traversed some very mountainous regions and the road went wild. For the rest of the journey we traveled through more or less flat country. The road surface on the whole wasn't too bad, even though there were patches here and there where a gang of robbers could have escaped detection for a considerable length of time - by hiding in the potholes.

While the road then could be considered `good' the road users “deserve” a different adjective and mad, though slightly mild, would be a fitting one. From the Austrian/Yugoslavian border onwards the roads were literally “littered” with wrecks of cars, trucks and busses. Many, if not most of those accidents happened because somebody passed another vehicle when he shouldn't have.  It is like one of the old Burma Shave road sign says:

When you drive, if caution ceases,
You are apt to rest in - pieces.

The bus drivers are by far the worst offenders. To me they seem like a bunch of frustrated Kamikaze pilots who, for lack of planes use busses to obtain their “ends”. While distance wise I might have been closest to heaven in Afghanistan, time wise it was certainly in Turkey. On one occasion a bus pulled out from behind another car and came straight at us. He missed us by the proverbial hair. That was about the closest that my guardian angel came to receiving “unemployment enjoyment”. There were numerous other occasions when I thought we have had it. 

Driving through the cities Peter Grainger outdid himself and I am still amazed that we got through these places without a scratch. Crossing the street in some of those cities is something else. While in Teheran I made several fruitless attempts to get to the other side of the street. Finally in frustration I turned to a man next to me and asked him "How did you get across?" He replied, “I didn't. I was born on this side of the street."

The weather often compounded the problem of driving “decently and in order”. We encountered fog in southern Germany which kept us company for about 600 miles. For a short stretch around the Austrian-Yugoslavian border the situation got aggravated by a snow fall. The fog lifted halfway between Zagreb and Belgrade, Yugoslavia, and except for a few patches in south-eastern Bulgaria, we had no more problems with it. While we had some snow in western Turkey, between Istanbul and Ankara, it became a real problem in eastern Turkey. The first day out of Ankara, we got stuck for about 5 hours in snowdrifts several feet deep. While attempting to get out our snow grips, a Norwegian invention, gave up the ghost or whatever it is they give up when they quit functioning.

After we got out of the snowdrifts we proceeded without the snow grips and used prayers instead. But since prayers are not accepted by the Turkish Government as a suitable substitute for snow chains, we purchased some in Sivas, the place where we stayed overnight. The next day was beautiful, clear and sunny and - ca. -30° C. Our diesel fuel decided to jell and droplets of water which had turned to ice joined the conspiracy and we were in a fix. That is, we would have been in a fix would it not have been for Mr. Grainger, Peters dad who forgot more about fixing cars than most of us will ever learn. Well he bled the pipes and emptied the fuel tank and we put some diesel in the tank to which he had added some gas (petrol for the English). That day we got as far as Erzincan. Our attempt to leave Erzincan the next day was thwarted by a blizzard which created zero visibility and brought down some avalanches across the road. We were able to continue the next day to Erzerum. Though there was still some snow around it ceased to be a problem. Peter Hausemann did most of the driving while we went through snow country.

I never cease to marvel at the vastness of God's creation in terms of passport officers, border and Custom's officers. We arrived at the Turkish border on Sunday evening and were stuck for 14 hours. We were finally able to leave after spending a $100 for a customs declaration and paid an $800 deposit for the spare parts we had with us. We got the $800 back when we left Turkey. At one border crossing no names mentioned, the customs chap wanted a bottle of whiskey or make us unload the whole bus. Well that was one time when I wished I had that commodity- to hit him over the head. They make a mistake in dating your entrance visa. Then when you leave the country you are hard pressed to explain the situation. Somebody will then offer his assistance and the proper thing is to pay him baksheesh. We acted very improperly; we got Peter Hausemann into the car and took off - all smiles.

A lot of odds and ends happen on a journey like that In Bulgaria a policeman stopped me on the road and wanted me to pay a fine for “driving with my lights on”. The puzzling thing was that he wanted me to pay in German Marks or Dollars.  Well we got out of that one by telling him we would pay at the police station. Bulgaria gave me the creeps. I wouldn't have been surprised if the waiter in a restaurant would have tapped the salt shaker saying, “One two three testing, testing. . ."

We got to Delhi on the 28th of Jan. The others went on towards Katmandu and I had to wait till the 31st before I got a train to Nagpur. The train journey lasted 26 hours and I got to Nagpur on Sunday evening.

Home at last!

Monday I run across an old acquaintance that lives alone with his housekeeper and he offered me a place at his house. By the way, he happens to be a German Catholic priest.

I went to see Devdas in Nandurbar, a place ca. 350 miles west of here. He still is working on his B. A. which, God willing, he will have completed in April. I have been working alone all this time, but decided to get me a second language assistant to speed things up.  Rekya will come next Sunday to Nagpur and help me. Later on he and I will continue the language analysis while I am working with Devdas, with him doing most it, on the translation of Mark. So far the progress has been slow. Still it is encouraging. What helps too is that God shows me in so many ways that He cares for me and for the thing I am attempting to do.  Just recently I was badly hoping a friend of mine from Nepal would come down because I was stuck with the clausal analysis. The person I was wishing for had completed an analysis of a related language (to Mawchi). That had been of great help to me. And sure enough I got a letter from him (I had not written him) he was coming. That's just like God.

Well I must close, Do drop me a line when you find time. I am addicted to letters.

In His Love

Frank M. Juelich.