the sari, part two.

So here are a couple of pictures of the sari.  My across-the-hall neighbor, Sarah, and her college-aged daughter, Amara, came over to help me with it last night.  I didn’t find out until after I asked for their help that they almost never wear saris and had trouble figuring out mine.  So we asked our next-door neighbor Mary to come rescue us.  She is probably close to seventy, and whipped me into shape so fast that we all stood in awe.

It’s hard to explain exactly what’s so complicated about wrapping a sari.  It involves lots of tucking, pleating, and pinning.  Then there’s trying to keep it in place, which, for me, turned out to be way easier said than done.  A lady once told my friend Alison, “You are not controlling your sari very well” (yes, you can count on knowing exactly what the people around you think here).  That pretty much sums up last night.  I was not controlling my sari very well.  My sari was controlling me.

It may have had something to do with the two-year-old who was hanging from me all evening.  Or the fact that the event we attended was outside.  At night.  In an unpaved alleyway.  Whatever the reason, my sari kept getting longer and longer so that by the end of the night I couldn’t walk without tripping.

When I got home I left that thing in a heap on my bedroom floor, and I’m not sure I’ll ever touch it again.

But it was a fun experience.  Tomorrow I’ll be much less festive and much more comfortable in my salwar kameez.

Since we’ll spend most of tomorrow celebrating with some of the village churches, we will have our own little family Christmas celebration on Monday.

Merry Christmas, dear friends!