Jahmes, bring me the BLANDEST thing on the menu!

Well, I knew it had to be too good to last. It appears that for the last few days my immune system finally succumbed to the irresistable charms and wiles of the local amoebic fauna! Yes folks, after an impressive (well I thought so at any rate) 3 1/2 weeks without the dreaded lurgie, Delhi Belly has finally bitten! Without giving you the full Bristol Stool Form Scale analysis (! Had to get that tit bit of trivia in there...), suffice it to say it was a good 24 hours spent in bed with fever and almost as much time again clinging to the porcelain! Innards have still not entirely recovered, but am feeling significantly better than I was.

It is unfair to blame it on the local food however as I have not eaten out in the last week, and have only eaten freshly sterilised and prepared things at home. Who knows, with the wonderful world of microbes?! India certainly has no shortage of them! Talking of food I had an interesting experience yesterday. It is amazing how God opens opportunities to witness to him when you allow yourself to be led by the Holy spirit. Before I continue, the rest of this blog comes with the caveat that it is long and serious! Most unlike me! THose wishing to skip straight to the comedy, ready the last paragraph only!

I went into Thane today to go shopping for some things I needed. One of the large shopping arcades I passed through is called R-mall - it is one of a number of very strange neon-lit places a lot like the ubiquitous american export "shopping malls" everywhere in the world, which seems most out of character set in down-town Thane! It's incongruity was underlined for me as I stepped out and paused for a moment to collect my thoughts and work out where I needed to go: R-mall is on a large road, 2 lanes to each carriageway with a small central reservation, on the opposite side and along from which there is a small slum dwelling.

I have tried to describe to you the abject squalour of these sorts of dwellings from glimpses and views from train windows in previous blogs. Frankly this one makes the shacks round from my flats look luxurious. There is almost no space at all between the dwellings. The pungent aroma of human effluents bites your nose when the wind carries in the right direction. Try to imagine not a lot more than some dirty oily sacking tarpaulins and a few corugated sheeting pieces draped over assortments of oil-drums, boxes, large sticks and the branches of some surrounding trees. People eat, sleep, live, laugh, are sick, cry and die here. The thought that people grow old here, or worse, grow up and grow old here, leaves me feeling...well to be honest I can't find the words. As my eyes focussed and took in some of this scene I noticed that on my side of the road, some little kids in brightly coloured saris and kurtas were scampering about, some crouching down. I suddenly saw that a couple of them were squatting with metal cans in their hands. I noticed that there was an elderly looking very small lady doing the same. It dawned on me that this is their toilet. In full view of the hundreds of passing motorists and rickshaw passengers, forced to squat behind the only 30cm ridge of gravel offering some negligible remnant of dignity. At this point a little hand touched my arm and I looked down at 2 filthy, dusty ragged little girls asking for money for food.

Before I tell the next part of this story I want to dispel any illusions of a saintly moral high ground here. As I have mentioned before, things are not always what they appear here, certainly not in the centre of the tourist areas in big cities. I did a fair bit of soul searching when I first got here and began to appreciate the sheer scale of the poverty everywhere. You quickly realise that if you gave just 10Rs (about 12 p) to every person who was destitute that you saw, you would end up spending hundreds, if not thousands of pounds every day. Throwing notes at people is not a solution to the problem - it is at best a patch and not a particularly wise use of money. So I had determined to give on my return from India to some Christian organisations that are seeking to meet the long term physical and spiritual needs of the poor in Mumbai. That does not make it any easier looking people begging from you in the eye and refusing to give them money. Often you are acosted in rickshaws on your way to somewhere at the lights, when the alternative is money or get out and do something. I have turned down enough expectant faces to haunt me for a lifetime.

Actually, what disturbs me more is the ease with which your heart hardens. God preserve us from that. Being here is challenging my grasp on Jesus' teachings about poverty and charity; to be honest I am forced again and again to return to God on my knees asking for wisdom and understanding in these situations. I know that I cannot take upon my shoulders the whole extent of human suffering and need - nor am I called to do that as a believer. But my understanding of Jesus' teaching is that we are called to try and lighten those burdens of our fellow human-beings which God gives us.

So, far from saintly in heart, I had actually just turned another beggar down on the way to R-mall. As these girls approached me I was expecting another bout of inner turmoil. In fact I found my lips forming the Hindi "kutch kana?" (something to eat?) and as two became three and three became four little raggedy little children leading me along the street I felt the still small voice of God's spirit prompt in my mind the scripture 'whatever you have done for the least of these...' They stopped outside a restaurant and pointed. The proprietor at the counter welcomed me in and asked if I would like lunch. I explained what I wanted and asked him to prepare some parcels of food for the children which, unlike my Mumbai stall seller he gladly did. Children fed, conscience assuaged? Well the former anyway. So why was God asking this of me? The upshot was that the proprietor asked me to come in and showed me around his restaurant, sat me down, took tea with me and insisted I have some refreshments from his kitchen and chatted with me for around 3/4 of an hour. His first response was "you will be blessed by God!" A devout hindu, when he found out I was a trainee doctor, his reaction was "Doctors are next to only God, because they can save a life". This is a common reaction here and one which can make one very uncomfortable. I explained that I was a Christian and we had a long conversation about faith and the nature of poor people's lot in life. He seemed surprised when I shared with him that this was not the 'destiny' of these people... and that God loved them passionately. To cut what is turning into an epic a little short, we exchanged telephone numbers and he has invited me back to his home to meet his family. Please pray for further opportunities and wisdom in sharing the gospel with him, and that it may flow naturally from our conversation. From each encounter here with non-believers I am learning new and surprising things about God; pray that I would have words to give an account of the hope that I have.

So on a lighter note, since we started with food, I'll just sign off with a hilarious thing I spotted in a Newspaper, in keeping with the theme of this post's title (sorry for all of you who didn't get the Goodness Gracious Me reference). A deluxe european tour advertised in the Mumbai Mirror, including soujourns in France, Italy, Austria and Switzerland, all known for their national cuisine, includes as one of its 'three great reasons to book' the following: "Great indian food prepared by our own chef based at various hotels in Europe, sent from Mumbai. He will prepare various delicacies in the modern kitchens of the hotel where you will be staying and you will be served in the restaurant where you are staying."

People are the same the world over, eh?