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the sari.
I apologize that things have been a little sparse on the blog this week. I have been sick with bronchitis, and, let’s just face it, everyday life just isn’t nearly as exciting as living it up with the G’s. We miss you, Grandpa and Mum-Mum! Remember when I said I’m not wearing a sari anytime soon? Well, now I have to eat my words. We are spending Christmas with two of the churches we are here working with. They are in more rural, traditional areas, and the plain truth is that all of the women there will be wearing sari’s for Christmas, and it would be a way to honor them…
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one-rat rule.
The roof of the Biryani Emperor was held up by rafters of wood, and a rodent had materialized on one of them. ‘Boy!’ Masterji shouted. ‘Look at that thing up there on the wood.’ The ‘boy’—the middle-aged waiter—looked up. Undeterred by all the attention, the sly rat kept moving along the rafter, like a leopard on a branch. The ‘boy’ yawned. Masterji pushed his biryani, not even half eaten, in the direction of the boy. ‘I have a rule. I can’t eat this.’ It was true: he had a ‘one-rat rule’—never revisit a place where a single rat has been observed. ‘You and your rule.’ Mr. Pinto helped himself to…
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south asian outfits.
This post is especially for Rachel C., who’s been asking for a picture of the outfits Martha and I had made. I am so upset I never got a photo of Martha’s because she looked awesome. Rachel, you will have to make her try it on next time she’s home from school. My outfit is a salwar kameez suit. The fabric or ready made tunic, salwar (baggy pants) and dupatta (scarf) are purchased together in a matching set. This outfit and the saree are the two traditional South Asian forms of dress here. I wear this to more traditional churches or when we travel in rural areas, but some of my friends here…
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a fine balance.
It’s sobering to write about a second car accident in a single month. Today I drove to a small grocery store fifteen minutes from our house. It’s on a corner of a busy intersection. I pass through the green light and pause on the other side, turn signal on, waiting to cross traffic into a parking space. As one opens, I look behind me, and just begin to turn the wheel when – WHAM! I see a flash of a sari and hear a woman scream. She had tried to speed around me to the right, clipped my car, and went sprawling onto the pavement. I quickly park to the…
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their money’s worth.
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eating.
Recently a group of pastors and I (David) shared a meal together in a small town in our state. I am an utter novice when it comes to eating in South Asia. It’s more complicated than it sounds. The four of us enter a small, dim room in another pastor’s home that serves as his bedroom, living room, and dining room. There are no tables, chairs, lights, or ceiling fan. It’s close to ninety degrees out, and I am sweating. The kitchen simmers and crackles with the smells of a generous lunch – rice, chapatti, dhal, and chicken. The men sit. I have trouble sitting still in a Lazy-Boy much…