It was about an hour and a half drive to the village. There were beautiful mustard fields all around, the sky was blue and cloudless. The village houses were made of straw, sticks and a few bricks. Everything had that old worn look that covers India like a smog. The village had about nineteen families. The women in this village are not allowed to leave their houses after they get married ever. For the rest of their lives. There were also a lot of cows.
Nicole was doing a study circle with some of the men, so Arastu, Armon, Rachelle and I played some games with the kids. When it was done we went into one of the courtyards and they gave us sugar canes as a gift. I was holding mine like a walking cane and one of the Indian men said I looked like Gandhi. We all had a laugh at that. After a little while we left to another village.
This village was dirtier, but the women here could leave their houses. We repeated the routine, playing games with the kids, while Nicole did a study circle with the women. The rickshaw driver, who was waiting around for us to go, began playing with the kids too, coming up with great games and having a good time. Finally we left to go home.
What can be said of villages in India? The ideal of simple 'village life' is a sham of course. I never understood people who think "ah, to be in a little village, in a close knit community, without all the distraction of modern life". The price for simplicity is extreme poverty. It means living in a straw hut. It's dogma, women stuck in their tiny houses for untold years. They gather cow dung with their bare hands to make fuel. Yet there is a very deceptive beauty to it. The sun is shining, the fields are verdant, the kids are laughing in Barabunki.
1 comment:
I found it interesting in the second paragraph where you said, "The women in this village are not allowed to leave their houses after they get married ever. For the rest of their lives. There were a lot of cows."
I hope your not sending some underlining insult here Lua lol.
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