Day 48, Sept. 27
Today is Pooja. What that means would be revealed to me at night. For now, I had to go through a long good day. It was also Sunday. Father Deveraj thought it would be good if I would preach and he could translate at least at the first Mass at 5:30 am. I preached on the scriptures of the day which had to do with unauthorized people doing good things as well as cutting you hand off if it is causing you to sin. I just had two points based on what I had seen on y trip in India. The first was the six languages in which I concelebrated Sunday Mass during my stay so far in India. They were Kannada, Bengal, Nepali, Hindi, Malayalam, and here in Tamil. They wee all colorful forms o sincere praise of God. The other was my reaction to being in two Leprosy Hospitals. I expected sorrow and signs of psychological pain. Instead, I was met with joy. People wanted their pictures taken and gladly showed me their amputated digit or hand or foot. They wee happy to be cured. And they were happy to receive the treatment the sisters and the medial staff wee giving them. Amputation can be a joy-giving event especially if it means health and longer life. That’s what confession can do for us. The people liked it. Moe importantly, for good bad, Fr. Deveraj liked it and made me repeat it at each Mass.
Two men who had a lot to do with Love & Care showed up at the rectory n the early afternoon. They were Jesuraj and Mariasusai. I went with them to see a number of children who receive money from Love & Care to go to school. They wee all erect and bright looking like the head of their classes. All their fathers were deceased and their mothers reduced to coolie labor including construction work for a dollar a day. They would be going to the same work if it had not been for L & C. We also visited Jesuraj’s house. He was a school principle. Hs children all engineering students. They are a sign of what all the children in his area could be.
Coming home late from that jaunt, Father and I, in cassocks, rushed over to one of the parish missions for a Mass. The entrance rite here was at least as impressive as what I received the night before. I felt like a minor deity. More garlands and fire and speeches. The church was packed to over flowing. The atmosphere was electric. At the end of Mass, once again, there was a time for a kind of presentation of gifts and an open forum. Whatever I said must have been right again. This gathering was a very real symbol of heaven and we were enjoying it. The people went for that image agreeing with me. I also praised their pastor who had only been sent thee a month ago. I thought this was the highlight of the day.
But, I forgot this was Pooja. There was a celebration to experience. Pooja is a Hindu pagan feast. It’s sort of Thanksgiving mixed in with St. Francis Day. It’s a night for blessing especially means of transportation. We processed to the main street outside the church yard. There were assembled a cohort of heavy trucks as well as motorbikes and other mans of transportation. First, we blessed fire, then food, then the vehicles. Then all the fun broke loose s children were given all sorts of fun food mostly of the nut and grain variety.
Without being prepared for it, I was again asked to speak. When there’s a mob surrounding you at close quarters, I found it beneficial for my health to do what they told me to do. What I said was humorous and made a point and was short. All that was left to do was to let the good times roll. While the crowd rejoiced, the clergy got ready for another day.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Day 47, Sept. 26
The day, in effect, began at 2:45 when I was to be picked up. My ride seemed to be late. I waited a bit longer and he arrived. Actually the gate had been locked. The priest then jumped the high fence and opened the gate from the inside. He got me to the station in plenty of time. The agent assured me of my status in the sleeper. I preferred a seat. She said I’d have to arrange that with the conductor.
I had over 45 minutes waiting time. I took out my breviary and began the Office of Readings at an appropriate time. That was until a young woman came and sat next to me. She asked if I were alone. I said “yes” and returned to prayer. I could feel her watching me. Sure enough, 2 minutes later she interrupts me showing me a Divine Mercy prayer card. She asked if I were a Christian. I told her I was a priest. Then she began to tell me her story of being engaged to one man an in love with another. I tried to be as non-directive as possible. She didn’t seem to go for that. So, I obliged and gave her some solid advice. She didn’t go for that either. Then my train came in. She tried to stop me from boarding. She didn’t get her way this time. I boarded with a woman, young n fairly attractive chasing me. I still do not know her scheme. I asked some Indians about this and none even tried to answer me.
On board, I quickly found my berth. I’m an expert by now. It was on the window side – a single bed on top. I made the bed, climbed in, and soon enough fell asleep for about 2 hours. Then the sun began to shine. The top berth had no windows but the train was getting light. Since the owner of the bottom berth had already gotten off the train, I took over that bed, changed it to the seating position and lounged back to stare at the lovely and strange countryside flying by. It was a far better experience than I would have had if I were in a regular seat. I only had to make sure I got off at Dindigul. That was not a bit difficult. On a clear bright morning I had made my way one more time on the Indian Railway.
There was a minor problem. I could not find the people who were to pick my up. I did call them earlier that morning telling them we wee on time. Thanks to the miracle of mobile phones, I called Fr. Deveraj back again and he said they were 5 minutes away. I reached the exit and, before I could get down all the steps, they were on their way up. Fr. Deveraj and I hugged. We had met in the Bronx. He was a sight for sore eyes and an end to this adventure.
He was the beginning of the next one. We first had lunch at a nice restaurant in a busy transportation depot sot of town with no definition except for trucks and warehouses. After lunch, we headed for the parish in the city(?) of N.Poolampatty.
It proved to be a quaint country town. My quarters were more than adequate. Once again the pastor gave me his room. O the first time the floor was neither stone nor concrete. It was a Pergo product which made the room feel cleaner. I was shown first two families who were being helped by Love & Care. They would have been coolie laborers as pre-teens I it had not been for the little bit of funds making it possible o them to go to school.
We returned to the rectory and got a short rest (I had only those 2 hours of real sleep in two days). I was called at sunset and got ready for Mass. There was dark, then there was fire, the there was the sound of drums beaten wildly. All this theater was on my behalf welcoming me to the town. I proceeded to be blessed with fire, had a garland put around me as well as the distinctive mark on my forehead. (This was the third time I had that experience.) Then we entered church for Mass. Thee wee introductions all around and speeches by the leading townsfolk. It’s nice when almost everyone in town is Catholic. I said a couple of words which happened to be the right ones. He people seemed very happy. Maybe it was my reaction to the children that won them over. Whatever it was, the people and I seemed to get al0ng very well together.
The day, in effect, began at 2:45 when I was to be picked up. My ride seemed to be late. I waited a bit longer and he arrived. Actually the gate had been locked. The priest then jumped the high fence and opened the gate from the inside. He got me to the station in plenty of time. The agent assured me of my status in the sleeper. I preferred a seat. She said I’d have to arrange that with the conductor.
I had over 45 minutes waiting time. I took out my breviary and began the Office of Readings at an appropriate time. That was until a young woman came and sat next to me. She asked if I were alone. I said “yes” and returned to prayer. I could feel her watching me. Sure enough, 2 minutes later she interrupts me showing me a Divine Mercy prayer card. She asked if I were a Christian. I told her I was a priest. Then she began to tell me her story of being engaged to one man an in love with another. I tried to be as non-directive as possible. She didn’t seem to go for that. So, I obliged and gave her some solid advice. She didn’t go for that either. Then my train came in. She tried to stop me from boarding. She didn’t get her way this time. I boarded with a woman, young n fairly attractive chasing me. I still do not know her scheme. I asked some Indians about this and none even tried to answer me.
On board, I quickly found my berth. I’m an expert by now. It was on the window side – a single bed on top. I made the bed, climbed in, and soon enough fell asleep for about 2 hours. Then the sun began to shine. The top berth had no windows but the train was getting light. Since the owner of the bottom berth had already gotten off the train, I took over that bed, changed it to the seating position and lounged back to stare at the lovely and strange countryside flying by. It was a far better experience than I would have had if I were in a regular seat. I only had to make sure I got off at Dindigul. That was not a bit difficult. On a clear bright morning I had made my way one more time on the Indian Railway.
There was a minor problem. I could not find the people who were to pick my up. I did call them earlier that morning telling them we wee on time. Thanks to the miracle of mobile phones, I called Fr. Deveraj back again and he said they were 5 minutes away. I reached the exit and, before I could get down all the steps, they were on their way up. Fr. Deveraj and I hugged. We had met in the Bronx. He was a sight for sore eyes and an end to this adventure.
He was the beginning of the next one. We first had lunch at a nice restaurant in a busy transportation depot sot of town with no definition except for trucks and warehouses. After lunch, we headed for the parish in the city(?) of N.Poolampatty.
It proved to be a quaint country town. My quarters were more than adequate. Once again the pastor gave me his room. O the first time the floor was neither stone nor concrete. It was a Pergo product which made the room feel cleaner. I was shown first two families who were being helped by Love & Care. They would have been coolie laborers as pre-teens I it had not been for the little bit of funds making it possible o them to go to school.
We returned to the rectory and got a short rest (I had only those 2 hours of real sleep in two days). I was called at sunset and got ready for Mass. There was dark, then there was fire, the there was the sound of drums beaten wildly. All this theater was on my behalf welcoming me to the town. I proceeded to be blessed with fire, had a garland put around me as well as the distinctive mark on my forehead. (This was the third time I had that experience.) Then we entered church for Mass. Thee wee introductions all around and speeches by the leading townsfolk. It’s nice when almost everyone in town is Catholic. I said a couple of words which happened to be the right ones. He people seemed very happy. Maybe it was my reaction to the children that won them over. Whatever it was, the people and I seemed to get al0ng very well together.
Day 46, Sept. 25
Sadly, today was another get-a-way day. The scheduled journey would take me first to Trivandrum, the See city of the Diocese. Then I would catch the night train to Dindigul. There, on the following morning, I would be picked up by my new host.
The hardest part would be the first leg. My host had appointments all morning. I told him that was no problem. I could take the local bus. Somehow, that was not on his list of possibilities. I persisted. He could take me the very short distance to the bus and make sure I got on the right one. He reluctantly acquiesced. Then, r remembered that two of his parishioners wee going to be on that bus with their young sons to attend a diocesan function that might result n the boys receiving a scholarship to Catholic school.
When the time came near for the bus to leave, I had to force the priest to get out from behind his desk to get me to the bus. He seemed as if he wanted me to miss it. We were late. I saw a bus moving. Since it was the only bus I directed my host to pull in front of it, which he did. Sure enough it was the right bus and the two women were aboard. Like it may have happened in Mayberry USA the driver graciously stopped; the conductor got out of the bus and proceeded to help me with my bags. Meanwhile, Father was conversing with the women.
Once on the bus and on the way to the big city of Trivandrum, the conductor proceeded to take the fare. When he got to me, he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was out of his power. The ladies had paid or my fare. It was the whopping price of 11 rupees (22 cents). The conductor powerlessly showed me the receipt. By this time the two boys who obviously knew me from church had come to sit with me. I had two ten rupee notes ready to pay my fare. I gave each of the boys one of them. All seemed to be happy. The mothers had come to sit behind me forcing the boys to behave. We spent the time playing finger and hand games. None of us knowing a word of the other’s language, we spent the next 90 minutes playing together – with the moms happily satisfied they could enjoy the ride themselves.
When we arrived at the last stop, it turned out to not to be the one we anticipated. We hoped to be across the street from the train station. We weren’t. That was more than a block away and the streets were under construction. There were a lot of three-wheeled taxis surrounding us all asking for our business. That’s when the other surprise hit. The ladies were given money to pay for the ride to the Chancery (Bishop’s House in India). We were all going there. However, I wanted to go to the train station first to get my ticket straightened out. It was an e-ticket. That only allows you waiting list status. I wanted to get a seat and not the berth I seem to have been sent. Thus, the hassle. The ladies were instructed to accompany me to the Bishop’s House. I wanted them to go while I settled matters at the station. They won. My consolation prize was to pay the cab fare of 50 rupees to the consternation of the ladies who had obviously been given money to pay for the taxi.
They were waiting for me at the Bishop’s House. I was given a nice room to freshen up in. One priest insisted to go look up my ticket status and it now in quite good order. I bought two more books at their ridiculously low prices. One book had printed on the back cover US $ 30.00 India 300 rupees ($6.00).
Of course, I wanted to get out and shop for a few necessities. I was offered two directions o a walk. Neither had any shops. In one direction was the king’s palace (Kerala was a kingdom until 1947). The other way led to museums and the zoo. I got to the zoo at closing time. I was reading a sign when a guard asked me if I wee going to enter. I told him the zoo was going to close in 2 minutes. He was insistent. So, I said yes; he pointed me to the admission booth (10 rupees entrance charge, in US$ 20cents) So, I had little to lose. As soon as I received my ticket, the heavy door dropped with a great thud. Then, I realized I had an hour to enjoy a walk in the zoo. The ambiance was the best part. It felt like a jungle with trees one only finds in a rainforest. Not all the animals were out; but those that were looked healthy.
When I returned, one of the chancery officials met me and asked about my arrangements to the train station for the 3:45 am train. Then another got involved. The upshot was that I had a ride from a priest to the station starting at 2:45. Greater love…
At dinner I enjoyed more conversion about coming to the US. That is an expected part of a priest’s development here it seems. One needs that experience on his curriculum vitae here. Then I returned to my room to pray, type more blogs, and do a puzzle.
Sadly, today was another get-a-way day. The scheduled journey would take me first to Trivandrum, the See city of the Diocese. Then I would catch the night train to Dindigul. There, on the following morning, I would be picked up by my new host.
The hardest part would be the first leg. My host had appointments all morning. I told him that was no problem. I could take the local bus. Somehow, that was not on his list of possibilities. I persisted. He could take me the very short distance to the bus and make sure I got on the right one. He reluctantly acquiesced. Then, r remembered that two of his parishioners wee going to be on that bus with their young sons to attend a diocesan function that might result n the boys receiving a scholarship to Catholic school.
When the time came near for the bus to leave, I had to force the priest to get out from behind his desk to get me to the bus. He seemed as if he wanted me to miss it. We were late. I saw a bus moving. Since it was the only bus I directed my host to pull in front of it, which he did. Sure enough it was the right bus and the two women were aboard. Like it may have happened in Mayberry USA the driver graciously stopped; the conductor got out of the bus and proceeded to help me with my bags. Meanwhile, Father was conversing with the women.
Once on the bus and on the way to the big city of Trivandrum, the conductor proceeded to take the fare. When he got to me, he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was out of his power. The ladies had paid or my fare. It was the whopping price of 11 rupees (22 cents). The conductor powerlessly showed me the receipt. By this time the two boys who obviously knew me from church had come to sit with me. I had two ten rupee notes ready to pay my fare. I gave each of the boys one of them. All seemed to be happy. The mothers had come to sit behind me forcing the boys to behave. We spent the time playing finger and hand games. None of us knowing a word of the other’s language, we spent the next 90 minutes playing together – with the moms happily satisfied they could enjoy the ride themselves.
When we arrived at the last stop, it turned out to not to be the one we anticipated. We hoped to be across the street from the train station. We weren’t. That was more than a block away and the streets were under construction. There were a lot of three-wheeled taxis surrounding us all asking for our business. That’s when the other surprise hit. The ladies were given money to pay for the ride to the Chancery (Bishop’s House in India). We were all going there. However, I wanted to go to the train station first to get my ticket straightened out. It was an e-ticket. That only allows you waiting list status. I wanted to get a seat and not the berth I seem to have been sent. Thus, the hassle. The ladies were instructed to accompany me to the Bishop’s House. I wanted them to go while I settled matters at the station. They won. My consolation prize was to pay the cab fare of 50 rupees to the consternation of the ladies who had obviously been given money to pay for the taxi.
They were waiting for me at the Bishop’s House. I was given a nice room to freshen up in. One priest insisted to go look up my ticket status and it now in quite good order. I bought two more books at their ridiculously low prices. One book had printed on the back cover US $ 30.00 India 300 rupees ($6.00).
Of course, I wanted to get out and shop for a few necessities. I was offered two directions o a walk. Neither had any shops. In one direction was the king’s palace (Kerala was a kingdom until 1947). The other way led to museums and the zoo. I got to the zoo at closing time. I was reading a sign when a guard asked me if I wee going to enter. I told him the zoo was going to close in 2 minutes. He was insistent. So, I said yes; he pointed me to the admission booth (10 rupees entrance charge, in US$ 20cents) So, I had little to lose. As soon as I received my ticket, the heavy door dropped with a great thud. Then, I realized I had an hour to enjoy a walk in the zoo. The ambiance was the best part. It felt like a jungle with trees one only finds in a rainforest. Not all the animals were out; but those that were looked healthy.
When I returned, one of the chancery officials met me and asked about my arrangements to the train station for the 3:45 am train. Then another got involved. The upshot was that I had a ride from a priest to the station starting at 2:45. Greater love…
At dinner I enjoyed more conversion about coming to the US. That is an expected part of a priest’s development here it seems. One needs that experience on his curriculum vitae here. Then I returned to my room to pray, type more blogs, and do a puzzle.
Day 45, Sept. 24
Today would be the last full day in Kerala. Ff. Dickson an I concelebrated Mass in the morning, had breakfast together with the sisters, and prepared ourselves for a leisurely boat trip. It turned out to be a joyful outing to see Father’s family. We dove fo about an hour to the house and had a good visit. Then, we dove a little to a river with a fairly large bend in it. There, waiting for us was a large boat that could comfortably ary about 15 people. He sets wee protected from the sun. he two of us got in an the crew of two shoved off and we slowly cruised around the ‘lake’ formed by the bend. The birds and tiny flying fish made it a delight. At one time or another each of us nodded off to sleep, but for only a minute or so. That’s how relaxing it was. By the time we docked, we were refreshed and ready to continue.
We drove back to the house to meet some more of Father’s family. Then, we returned to the rectory. We didn’t do much. Yet, seeing a priest’s home and seeing him interact with family provided me with a view of clergy that you don’t see in the rectory. What I saw was not a bit different from what I’ve experienced in the US. Iests are the same. They are ordinary people. The home had more religious statues and pictures than the average American home. It was, however, about the same as most Catholic homes I visited in India. Here, Catholics all have decorated their homes profusely with holy objects especially of Mary.
At about 8pm, as usual, we called on the sisters for dinner. And, as usual, they provided a fine supper and good conversation.
Today would be the last full day in Kerala. Ff. Dickson an I concelebrated Mass in the morning, had breakfast together with the sisters, and prepared ourselves for a leisurely boat trip. It turned out to be a joyful outing to see Father’s family. We dove fo about an hour to the house and had a good visit. Then, we dove a little to a river with a fairly large bend in it. There, waiting for us was a large boat that could comfortably ary about 15 people. He sets wee protected from the sun. he two of us got in an the crew of two shoved off and we slowly cruised around the ‘lake’ formed by the bend. The birds and tiny flying fish made it a delight. At one time or another each of us nodded off to sleep, but for only a minute or so. That’s how relaxing it was. By the time we docked, we were refreshed and ready to continue.
We drove back to the house to meet some more of Father’s family. Then, we returned to the rectory. We didn’t do much. Yet, seeing a priest’s home and seeing him interact with family provided me with a view of clergy that you don’t see in the rectory. What I saw was not a bit different from what I’ve experienced in the US. Iests are the same. They are ordinary people. The home had more religious statues and pictures than the average American home. It was, however, about the same as most Catholic homes I visited in India. Here, Catholics all have decorated their homes profusely with holy objects especially of Mary.
At about 8pm, as usual, we called on the sisters for dinner. And, as usual, they provided a fine supper and good conversation.
Day 44, Sept. 23
There was more to come as far as joyriding was concerned. This time in Kerala was to be more concerned with resting. On that note Fr. Dickson gave me some choices as to how to spend the day. That part was easy. The mountains are my joy. He expanded his choices with the result of confusing me. Then, we could also do more than one thing. I had no idea how to respond to his putting the success of the day on my uninformed choices. So, I chose the mountains alone. I chose correctly. It turned out to be a glorious day despite some spots of bad weather.
We went to the Ghats. Without knowing it for sure, I had chosen o go into the mountains I had seen from a distance twice. They were enchanting. Although they are considered a range, each mountain stands unique. Climbing .them is no different than driving up the Smokies except there are a lot more cutbacks. You gain altitude much faster. The views are more stark although they are very green. Both coffee and tea grow there as well as various palms and hardwoods. Getting out and hiking was thrilling sine we were playing hide and seek with clouds. When the clouds opened, a completely new vista appeared. Of course, there were streams, falls, and whitewater. It was a flashback to home in Tennessee.
We returned to the parish an dinner with the sisters. They leaned my liking for cold Coca-Cola and served it at dinner. I looked forward to something cold. Nowhere else in India had anything cold.
Tonight we surprised ourselves. We played Scrabble. The game was fun, fast and competitive. We ended at 11:30 a more bonded group.
There was more to come as far as joyriding was concerned. This time in Kerala was to be more concerned with resting. On that note Fr. Dickson gave me some choices as to how to spend the day. That part was easy. The mountains are my joy. He expanded his choices with the result of confusing me. Then, we could also do more than one thing. I had no idea how to respond to his putting the success of the day on my uninformed choices. So, I chose the mountains alone. I chose correctly. It turned out to be a glorious day despite some spots of bad weather.
We went to the Ghats. Without knowing it for sure, I had chosen o go into the mountains I had seen from a distance twice. They were enchanting. Although they are considered a range, each mountain stands unique. Climbing .them is no different than driving up the Smokies except there are a lot more cutbacks. You gain altitude much faster. The views are more stark although they are very green. Both coffee and tea grow there as well as various palms and hardwoods. Getting out and hiking was thrilling sine we were playing hide and seek with clouds. When the clouds opened, a completely new vista appeared. Of course, there were streams, falls, and whitewater. It was a flashback to home in Tennessee.
We returned to the parish an dinner with the sisters. They leaned my liking for cold Coca-Cola and served it at dinner. I looked forward to something cold. Nowhere else in India had anything cold.
Tonight we surprised ourselves. We played Scrabble. The game was fun, fast and competitive. We ended at 11:30 a more bonded group.
Day 43, Sept. 22
Plans were made after the feast yesterday. I was part of one. On rising this morning, I concelebrated Mass in the parish church and went to breakfast at the convent. In fact, every meal not eaten out took place in the convent. There were three nuns living in the convent. The older o the three did seem the most sensible; but was not the superior. That was the one in the middle, age-wise. She was very intelligent and certainly in charge. The other was very young and acted the part.
I found out four priests were going out for a day off and I was invited to come. I immediately accepted. What we ended up doing was drive south along the coast and look for the damage still evident from the Tsunami. Churches were still being rebuilt; monuments were constructed and efforts to help the people were ongoing. It’s interesting to be with priests who spend their off time inspecting and praying in churches. We also walked around beaches and on rocks. We also had a good meal and went back to our parishes.
Back home, I got to walk out to see the sun set again. Again it was too late; but it was about 15 minutes earlier and I got to see where I was the night before. There really was nothing to be afraid of. And it was kind of pretty where the fresh water (from three sources) entered the salty Arabian Sea. There were religious shrines and statues along the shore as well. It was a good evening.
Plans were made after the feast yesterday. I was part of one. On rising this morning, I concelebrated Mass in the parish church and went to breakfast at the convent. In fact, every meal not eaten out took place in the convent. There were three nuns living in the convent. The older o the three did seem the most sensible; but was not the superior. That was the one in the middle, age-wise. She was very intelligent and certainly in charge. The other was very young and acted the part.
I found out four priests were going out for a day off and I was invited to come. I immediately accepted. What we ended up doing was drive south along the coast and look for the damage still evident from the Tsunami. Churches were still being rebuilt; monuments were constructed and efforts to help the people were ongoing. It’s interesting to be with priests who spend their off time inspecting and praying in churches. We also walked around beaches and on rocks. We also had a good meal and went back to our parishes.
Back home, I got to walk out to see the sun set again. Again it was too late; but it was about 15 minutes earlier and I got to see where I was the night before. There really was nothing to be afraid of. And it was kind of pretty where the fresh water (from three sources) entered the salty Arabian Sea. There were religious shrines and statues along the shore as well. It was a good evening.
Day 42, Sept. 21
This morning is the Feast of St. Matthew. It would be tough to beat last night’s pomp and gayety. For starters they brought in an outside bishop. (He had been the prefect in the seminary Fr. Dickson went to and had collaborated with him in writing music). He preached longer than the homilist the night before. And then there was the crowd which was even larger. The liturgical dancing was a sight to behold. But the biggest difference was the meal. It was a feast for 3,000+. Everybody ate. The priests ate the best including tapioca and ice cream for dessert. I was engaged in a kind of food fight with the priest who sat next to me. He tied to keep filling up my plate and I retaliated by putting that morsel on his plate. The ladies and nuns serving got into the lightheartedness and all enjoyed a good time. I got n extra dessert out of the affair and a good deal of acceptance. People and priests alike saw I could give and take with th bst o them.
I went for a walk on the beach after the meal while the parish priests were renewing their friendship and making plans with each other. The town was a fishing village with boats which could have been used in a Life of Christ. I discovered a secret I wish I didn’t. The Styrofoam plates used for the east were being thrown into the sea. Only the sea was coming in and the garbage lay strewn over the sand. Such being the
Case, I diverted my walk to the city. Sine it was a Catholic an Muslim holiday, there weren’t many stores open. So I, spent the rest of the daylight hours quietly.
Then Fr. Dickson asked m to walk with me to see the sun set. It was too late for that. In at it was getting very dark with only a sliver of a moon. Yet, I was urged on to walk along the shore in virtual total darkness. Not to do so would mean I did not trust my host and that I was scared. The last statement was true. There was the ocean and an estuary entering it. There was same garbage still around. I had ideas of the possibilities of what my next step might be. I did not like playing this game. But, I did. Soon enough we got to some lights and my trust may have been proven.
This morning is the Feast of St. Matthew. It would be tough to beat last night’s pomp and gayety. For starters they brought in an outside bishop. (He had been the prefect in the seminary Fr. Dickson went to and had collaborated with him in writing music). He preached longer than the homilist the night before. And then there was the crowd which was even larger. The liturgical dancing was a sight to behold. But the biggest difference was the meal. It was a feast for 3,000+. Everybody ate. The priests ate the best including tapioca and ice cream for dessert. I was engaged in a kind of food fight with the priest who sat next to me. He tied to keep filling up my plate and I retaliated by putting that morsel on his plate. The ladies and nuns serving got into the lightheartedness and all enjoyed a good time. I got n extra dessert out of the affair and a good deal of acceptance. People and priests alike saw I could give and take with th bst o them.
I went for a walk on the beach after the meal while the parish priests were renewing their friendship and making plans with each other. The town was a fishing village with boats which could have been used in a Life of Christ. I discovered a secret I wish I didn’t. The Styrofoam plates used for the east were being thrown into the sea. Only the sea was coming in and the garbage lay strewn over the sand. Such being the
Case, I diverted my walk to the city. Sine it was a Catholic an Muslim holiday, there weren’t many stores open. So I, spent the rest of the daylight hours quietly.
Then Fr. Dickson asked m to walk with me to see the sun set. It was too late for that. In at it was getting very dark with only a sliver of a moon. Yet, I was urged on to walk along the shore in virtual total darkness. Not to do so would mean I did not trust my host and that I was scared. The last statement was true. There was the ocean and an estuary entering it. There was same garbage still around. I had ideas of the possibilities of what my next step might be. I did not like playing this game. But, I did. Soon enough we got to some lights and my trust may have been proven.
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