Home is Where the Water Runs Shit Brown...

This is a middle class home on a normal street. 

  It's been a rough couple of weeks seeing death and sickness not only in the animals of Mysore but in the people on the streets as well.  Today was my day off from yoga so I sat around this afternoon feeling sorry for myself because my water was coming out shit brown and I really wanted to take a shower.  I looked around and thought to myself..."I'm a baby"..I even referred to myself as "Puss Puss" because I was whining so loud in my head my brain wanted to vomit.  I decided that among the things I couldn't control in my life like shit brown water I'm pretty lucky in the home, family and friends department.  I got off my ass and took a walk while having several of what I call... "Oh Fuck" moments...

Worker class home

  I started my afternoon walk on a different note.  Everywhere I usually take a right I took a left and everywhere I usually take a left I took a right.  India is a different creature in the way of housing.  You will see a very ornately beautiful house and right next door you will see a sketchy shack made of clay bricks and a banana leaf roof.  Of course the big lavishly built houses are beautiful but there's just as much beauty in those clay and straw houses.  I would walk by and the locals would stare like they always do...I would smile huge and then they would light up their faces emulating mine.   The one thing I noticed was no matter how rich you are in India...whether you lived in a shack or a huge ornate house...the laundry is hung out in the sun to dry.  It's beautiful.  You look at the houses and the little shacks and you see a rainbow of colors in the clothes, sheets, and towels hanging along the edge of the homes.  It's quite nice to look at.

Snack cart and houses

  I came up to the slums close to the place I'm staying and saw a bunch of kids smiling and waving at me.  I decided...Why not go visit... so... I went to visit.  I squatted down next to a family while they were eating...The lady of the house who goes by Amma (mother in Kannada)  asked what country I was from and I said.. U.S.A.  She gave me a thumbs up and said Obama... Good... Yes... I smiled at her and said... Yes... Obama... good... She asked if I would like to eat with them.  I saw what they were eating looked very good but it was hardly anything split among a family of five.  The kids looked healthy but thin so I declined politely.  I asked if I could take their photo and they all started getting excited like it was a huge deal.  To me it wasn't... To them it was... It again made me appreciate the access to technology I was blessed to have.  I took some photos and their smiles went from ear to ear.  A few more kids walked up and wanted me to take their photo and show me their homes.

Bath time at the water pump

Siblings

  Mosely is almost seventeen and he works the streets with his dad picking up garbage.  His brother Maurche is in school studying hard so he can pass the college exam.  His family has only enough money to pay for one of them to go into an advanced degree program.  The others have to work and help support the family.  They walked up and asked if I would walk with them to see their houses.  I followed and what I saw was extreme poverty.  In the United States it is about as good as being homeless but they were so proud of their humble little homes.  Mosely wouldn't talk much and just kept pointing to the communal water pump.  I asked... What's that?  Maurche said Mosely is very proud because he helped put in the water pump...Before they had to walk to the other side of the camp (slum) to get water.  Now they can wash dishes, drink, shower, and play all in the same area near their little house.  I looked over and there was a kid washing his hair and playing by the water pump out in the middle of everyone...Then I think to myself... I'm bitching about my bucket shower and my shit brown water... Shame on me... I'm such a typical spoiled white boy.  We walked around and they wanted me to take everyone's photo.  Mosely's uncle drives up on a bike with a friend and they want their picture taken.  Neither one speak any English... I here Maurche talking to them in Kannada... There's some mumbling going on and I ask Maurche what they want.  Maurche says they are asking him to teach them how to say "Welcome to our home" in English. He said it was an honor to have an American come in and see their home.  They see westerners come into the area for yoga but they never stop in to say hello or take their picture so they are very happy I am visiting.  Mosely's uncle finally says..."Welcome Home" it wasn't exactly what he was trying to say but somehow it was fitting. I had to look away because my eyes teared up.  I really felt like I was in the right place at that very moment.

The kids and me

  I walked around and visited a little more and then I started my walk home.  As I was leaving a group of them asked when I could come back and see them.  I smiled and said one day soon.  One of the kids looked up at me and asked if I could bring biscuits (cookies).  I smiled and said I would.  I walked back to my room at the home stay and felt much better about my rancid water situation.  I kept thinking about Maurche and Mosely's uncle who for five minutes tried to learn how to say "welcome to our home" and when he spoke the words that came out were "welcome home".  I felt at home for a few minutes today among strangers in a strange land where the water looks and smells like shit and people living in a shack with little to eat offered me a home cooked dinner...I was home... and it was a great place to be.  I'm humbled and blessed and surrounded by a worldly family that teaches me that people are home where they find acceptance.  I felt that today where I least expected it and for that I am truly grateful.

Uncle and friend

Slums where I felt at home

Little boy playing on the water

Amma..Mother who offered me dinner