I've truly been enjoying my final days in India. It was sad saying goodbye to Ranchi where I spent most of my time, but now I've been processing so much of what I learned this past month and a half. Its good to be able to talk through what's been on my mind with a good friend a d fellow writer. I've been musing over the next chapter of my book, when Ferdinand arrives in Lohardaga where he and his family lives for twenty years. The chapters portrays how he learned the Kurukh language, the langauge of the Oraon people. Later, after the turn of the century, he would write the Kukukh grammar and dictionary, a compilation of folk tales and other writings about the Oraon culture and religion. Last night I equated the process of my writing to discovering Everest. Earlier this year I watched several great documentaries on Mt. Everest. I realised that perceptions of the mountain change over time. Today thousands of people around the world climb the mountain. Their perceptions differ from Hilary and Tensing, who reached the peak in the 1950s. Their perception even varies from George Everest who measured it in the geographic survey of the Indian Subcontinent in the 1840s. Then the Sherpas, who receive a good livelihood from the mountain, and take the most risk, still listen to the mountain. If the mountain groans and there is an avalanche they want to stop climbing for a while. The foreign climbers only think about how much it has cost them, and press to keep on climbing. Something has been lost in our perception and appreciation of the mountain. Likewise I do not wish to start with what Ferdinand produced. From the start, how did he discover and aquire the language? What did it tell him about the people? How did he listen? How did he interact with the people? What did he learn about himself? I may not be able to answer all these questions, but as I think of my own experience I know that understanding follows fluency.
As an example the common social interaction of becoming aquainted involve some basic points of inquiry, Typical questions in India are: Are you married? How many children do you have? How old are you? What is your occupation? These may or may not reveal something about class and caste, and the social relations between people. The Adivasi also identify a person by their totem or Sept, which has become a Last Name. So if they are not familiar with your last name, they would ask what is its meaning? What totem are you? Ferdinand would have answered Rooster (Hahn in German). It would then be understood that his clan therefore was given the responsibility to care for and steward the rooster. See list of names below. I wonder if there were questions about why the rooster married the Fox (Voss, Doris' maiden name) Language and identity are wrapped up in each other. Niether is stagnant. As perceptions change, how much do we pay attention and listen to the language around us? In aquiring language what do we learn about each other and nature? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Majority of oraons write their septs. List of totemistic names of Kurukhs: Sr.Nos Gotras Meaning 1 Kerketta Quail bird, found among Munda and Karia tribes. 2 Xalxo/Khalkho Shad fish 3 Xaxa/Khakha Crow 4 Xess/Khess Paddy/Rice 5 Kujur A climbing plant 6 Toppo Wood picker bird 7 Tirkey Name of a bird or young mouse 8 Tigga Monkey or field rat 9 Minz Eel 10 Ekka Tortois 11 Barla Exogamous sept, found in Mundas and Kharia tribes. 12 Barwa Wild hog. 13 Koiya Wild Dog 14 Lakra Tiger 15 Beck Salt 16 Dhanwar/Dhangar Domestic Worker 17 Baghwar Tiger 18 Kachhap Tortois 19 Kindo Carp fish 20 Kispota Intestine of hog 21 Kanda Sweet potato 22 Kokro Cock 23 Gaddi Deep 24 Khoya Wild dog, Jackal 25 Chermanko An animal, Rate 26 Panna Iron 27 Bakula Crane 28 Bara Banyan tree 29 Bando Fox 30 Bhagat Kurukh priest(Baigas) 31 Binko Star 32 Munjni Creeper 33 Linda Fish 34 Son Son river 35 Rawna Vulture 36 Oroan Cast name of Oroan 37 Ram Lord Ram, Exogamous sept 38 Gidh Vulture Bird 39 Kannhar Vulture Bird 40 Baxla Tank weed 41 Beshra A name of tree 42 Nikunj Exogamous sept 43 Beshra Name of a bird 44 Devi Exogamous sept 45 Ckigalo Jackal 46 Hartu The Haluman ape 47 Orgoda hawk 48 Chelekchela Swallow 49 Dhechua Swallow-tailed bird 50 Chitkha Ficus religiosa 51 Amdi Rice-water 52 Madgi Mahua 53 Kiss khochol Lit, hog bone, a thorny tree 54 Garwa Bird(Saras) 55 Godo Name of a water creature. 56 Kuhu Cockoo 57 Oregora Kite 58 Kinda Coconut 59 Gadi Monkey 60 Gende Duck 61 Godo Crocodile 62 Chidra Squirrel 63 Jubbi Source of water 64 Pusra Kusum tree 65 Argo Mouse
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I would like to thank GTC and the GEL Communications and Publications deprtment for putting on the Writers Workshop for the students. Special thanks to Bishop Rev Dr. Hemrom and Rev Bage and Golden K. for hard work to make this happen. I think the students were challenged and stretched. Also thank you for the opportunity to tell a bit of the story that I am writing on Doris and Ferdinand Hahn. They were married at the church here in Ranchi on 8 December 1871. Here is the power point presentation I gave. I ended by showing them my family tree and asked how many of them had done a family tree like this of five generations. Only one had. I encouraged them to ask their family. Perhaps dates won't be remembered, especially for family members that weren't Christians with no birth and baptismal records. Still they can get an approximation by asking was it before or after the big war I or II; before or after Independence in 1947, or before or after the Mutiny of 1857.
They didn't have any questions afterwards. After three days I think their brains were tired, but in general they are very reserved and questions and comments come freely only after they are comfortable with you and not in a large group. One Oraon young woman asked if this was the same man who wrote the Kurukh grammar. Yes! She was so happy to learn, since her family speaks Kuurukh. "Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you." Job 12:7-8
Since we shamelessly squander our natural resources and lack any real sense of stewardship, I commit to feature in my writing the interplay of nature in our daily life. My story will feature as a backdrop the wildlife that just 100-150 years ago were prevalent in these parts, some now extinct or rare. A pastor at dinner tonight was told there was Roti (flat bread) for dinner and he said "Man does not live by bread alone, there must be rice." Rice is the favorite food here in Jharkhand and in many parts of Asia. As I drove through the countryside today the rice fields were vast and plentiful. It was a good rain this year and now a good harvest. There will be rice plentiful.... and hopefully some of the local people will get some. I was interested in what I just read about something Ferdinand Hahn wrote about rice back in the 19th century: "Meals are taken only twice daily, one in the morning between 10 and 12 o'clock, the other in the evening between 8 and 9 o'clock. It is astonishing that the quantities of rice, the principal food, are devoured; but it is not surprising, for the time between the two meals is long and the nutrient which the rice contains is small. In times of distress, the Kol (Adivasi) also had only one meal a day and spurned nothing that was only edible in some way, roots, leaves and berries of forest trees were eaten. Only dog and cat meat he never eats." He goes on to describe how rice is grown: "All the Kols are passionate farmers, and everyone is looking to have as much land as he can acquire to live on. Even those who have a position, or is a craftsman or servant, will always strive to acquire some land which can then be worked by others. In January the occasional (rain) falls, and then the Kol farmer rushes to plow his field once or twice. For this he needs a very primitive plow, which draws only flat tracts; but as long as he has no greater and more powerful cattle, a deeper plow can not help him. In April and May he fertilizes the field with the droppings of the herd, which he has collected, or (after) burning the cow dung. He also uses the remaining (mud) of dried ponds and lakes to fertilize. He would not allow himself to be induced to use wet manure from the cattle stable, which would be (is otherwise) so advantageous in a hot country, The field which is owned has ground water and can only be plowed in the hot season, in May. As soon as the first rain begins after the outbreak of the monsoon at the beginning of June, the upper field is plowed again, if possible, twice. Then he smoothes and forms it with a board. In the lower field, the rice is not sown, but planted, after a bed of plant-seedlings has been prepared. Only when the farmer does not have the means for costly transplanting of the rice-crops does he also sow the seed in the mud. In this case, however, he must again plow to loosen the sown seed. If he can not do this, and if he had not sufficiently seeded, he takes whatever the soil gives of itself; of course, this is only for a year after the field has been prepared beforehand. The Kol has three different types of field: the heavy marsh ground, which he calls nagra, which always has enough moisture, and is therefore always able to yield; the lower field, which still produces its fruit in an average rainfall, is called garha; and the higher arable land, which yields only with copious rain-yield, the chaura. The Koi farmer knows quite well which kinds of rice are fit for the different soils. In the nagre field, he uses the barka, the large-grain rice, the bansphul = the "bamboo blood" and the tangabent = the "axe handle". In garha he uses the "tiger claw", the "cucumber roots" etc. In chaura the most hope of prosperity is the "small", the "hyena eye" and the "ball". These three types of field are called don or dhoin, i.e. washed or watered, because they must always stand under water for the rice to flourish. A high field is called taur or dar, i.e. branch. On this, the best growing types are the goradhan = the light-colored rice, "the bony," the "brother", etc." So if they once had such rich variety in rice why is it that every, almost everywhere in Asia, eat white rice? I found an article that explains the story of rice from a Filipino perspective http://www.yesmagazine.org/blogs/john-cavanagh-and-robin-broad/the-story-of-refined-white-rice. The practice of polishing rice is 150 years old and was done primarily so that the rice would last longer and be lighter for shipping to the west. When it was first introduced locally it was not liked, but the demand for polished rice was so high that soon the people began to eat this rice that has lost most of its nutrient value. But to get people to eat "brown" or "dirty" rice is very difficult. In the villages there may be some benefit of using the rice right from the farm, before it goes to the mill. But most do not labor so intently to get their rice as was described: "Harvesting the grain is done with the sickle, a laborious work in which men and women share. The former carry the sheaves on their backs to the khalihan, the threshing floor, which is usually made near the village by pounding the earth. The threshing is carried out in such a way that the grain is finally spread around on the khalihan. Wicken and similar plants are pressed out with pricks, which is also seen to by women. When the rice is threshed, it is cleaned by men by means of a shovel of dust and straw, and wrapped in straw bales, and driven home, or carried in baskets, and stored in large baskets of bamboo-braiding." They will celebrate the harvest and I was given a sample of the "Chawal Ladoo" that is so popular during that festival Still I will give thanks for white rice, for it is great to eat when your stomach is not doing well as mine was the other day. That and three bananas for a day and I'm back to normal. Oh and several liters of water with ORS (Oral Revitalization System powder).
Once again I was so graciously welcomed by the town council of Lohardagga as I visit them again to present a photo of the first town council in 1888 that was formed by Ferdinand Hahn, who was also the first President. I handed the photo to the 22 President of the town and to the town hall members and staff. There was much good conversation. I only pray I don't get into too much trouble having expressed my personal opinion about the CTA Chotanagpur Tenancy Act 1908 that is currently being challenged. It has been the only strong piece of legislation that has stayed in tact in favor of the Adivasi. True it was created by German missionaries, but with the understanding of the importance of ancestral lands as the primary foundation of maintaining community and culture. if it is altered or removed the advantage will go to others and the Adivasi will have nothing left to protect them. It is my opinion, but they wanted me to go on record for having said it. Otherwise we discussed about Ferdinand Hahn's contributions in language education and health, and about my family heritage (four generations working in India) I asked them to find out if anyone in the town can identify anyone in the picture as their own ancestors and if they have pictures to match. Of course they started to say this looks like so and so and such and such who are presently on the council. My host, Manorma Ekka was very good at pushing me to say everything in Hindi. After our short visit to town hall we were went to visit a group of women who have a savings network. Each woman pays into it 10 rupees monthly and then they can borrow from the fund when they need money for seeds or medicines or such. I asked why the men don't also do this. They teach the children to save and budget but the men "live for themselves", while the women manage the care of the family. "Johar! Neem ekane aradaya" I most probably have massacred it but it means: "Greetings, how are you?" There were six groups of women. Each keeps their own money box and when it is full it goes to the bank. A registry book keeps all their pertinent information, including remarks from guests.
This may have been the most followed US election in India. Of course in Jharkhand there are so many other greater concerns that most of the people didn't know the results but they all seem to have a sense of who Trump and Hilary are. There are of course extreme right wing Hindus who have made him into a god. But for most people I think it is a bit bewildering to many that the nation that represents democracy in the world (debatable, I know) is possibly poised to change that (remains to be seen). The Hindustani is not perhaps the best representation of newspapers, but is one you can read. "Don of a New Age" Don means mafia thug here.. But Bollywood has managed to make that somehow into a heroic figure by casting India's beloved SRK movie star in a series entitled "Don" Who knows maybe we will learn to love this Star-wanna-be. I doubt it. I'm sure those who voted him in will quickly be disillusioned if it is no longer in his best interest to appease their sway. Meanwhile what is really stirring India up is a sudden announcement that all 500 and 1000 rupee notes were no longer valid. ATMs were shut down and people are expected to go to the back to trade in what ever you have (I have 3 thousands and 1 five hundred. Value is about $15 and 7.5) Only apparently gas stations were permitted to accept the old currency and so there were long lines. I thought there would be long lines in the banks also, but I guess they are closed. The point is to get all the black market currency out. So apparently temples are being filled with donations in the millions of these large notes as people try to ditch their dirty money.. Meanwhile my time here has been most productive and enjoyable. Remarkably a young woman named Unupama from Delhi University came to do research at the GTC. She is from Chattisghar, an Oraon and learned German because the church where she grew up had a library of books that the German missionaries had left. She is going to study the impact of the German Missionaries on Language and Literature. We had so much to talk about. Last night I was invited to be the chief guest at the sports award ceremony at the Gossner Theological College (sadly I didn't take my camera). I told them the story that my kids love about Olympic winners. That the difference between first and second place is no bigger than a hair width. We make a big deal of the winner, they become famous. But everyone after them become unknown. By a nose a man becomes the most famous man in the world and every one else is "koan hai". Luckily, as people in the light we don't have to live like that. Everyone is known and recognized for their achievements by God, and we must honor all as God honors them. The staff of the HRDC guesthouse where I stay have been busy working since there is a conference going on of Mennonite partners in India. They've been having to cook for and clean after about 60+ people. I made a comment to Sucheema about how everyone is working so hard (maybe about 10 staff members). She replied with her contagious smile, "But we are all working doing our part. As long as we work together it is a good thing." It made me think that if they feel the ripples of our angst and disunity in the US all the way over here, wouldn't it be nice to have the ripple roll back. From the heartland of India, the original peoples, may the lessons of unity, hard work and team work be followed. My next adventure is 4 days in Lohardaga, a village further into the interior of Jharkhand. It is where our ancestors once lived for 20 years. I don't know what I will find, but it is remarkable the kinds of things that I've learned. For instance at breakfast one of the men at the conference came up to me and told me his whole family tree. Five generations going back to Hanukh Lakra the third ordained pastor among the people of this region. He has pictures and stories to share with me. What a valuable connection. It only makes me recognize that I am just an instrument. God is leading me and guiding me in this process. I don't know who will cross my path, I don't know what I need to know until it simply crosses my path. I must confess I feel a most inadequate vessel. If only I was younger with more energy, and more equipped to ask the right questions and how to dig deeper, but as I see that my ancestors only had their zeal and their determination to go by that I also, led by the same Spirit, just push on forward and I can only say it's an amazing adventure. I am praying that people in the US recognize their own potential to be the change they want to see, that we can leave this season of truly atrocious hate-mongering and slander and flow into a season of reflection, reexamination, renunciation, repentance, rejuvenation, restoration and refreshing. The people here just finished singing: "let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me." Let it ripple out! Note: After a few days I see that there have been a lot of hat mongering demonstrations as well as people raising their voices to make it know that there is plenty still not right in the USA. We cannot assume that the march of hate will just stop over night, but don't let it weaken your resolve to go higher! For those of you who are not on Facebook I will add what I can to this post. It isn't the best day for me to write about my first week, because I am utterly exhausted from a a long and delightful day traveling to Chaibassa. Today I am in Jamshedpur, the huge industrial city named after the first Tata industrialist. Quite a big contrast, and another day full of activities, as the church of 50 years here dedicates its new church. To say the least I am running on a thread of energy. However, I am taking advantage of the better internet here. Luckily in Ranchi It has been easy to load pictures onto Facebook and to write emails, but I couldn't even get my blog to open until now. So to take yo will share just a few photos for now. If you can get onto my Facebook page you will see so much more NOV 2 Mission Day, celebrating the past and continuing the good work that was started. What is remarkable is how self sufficient they are. Yes support is helpful from outside, but they do not want to start anything they themselves cannot sustain. Into the interior, hills and jungle where the Adivasi are majority, among them many Christia. Adivasi Not much more time. But here are pictures of Chaibassa where Ferdinand and Doris Hahn lived for a year or two.
To travel to India twice in one year is a remarkable opportunity. This spring I traveled with my father, a cousin and sister-in-law and now in the fall I will be going again on my own. I’ve sandwiched other trips in between as part of my research. In particular two weeks in July to Germany and London. Everything else throughout the year has been the far less glamorous task of writing. It has been difficult to set aside my community work and other interests to focus on writing. I’m hoping to finish up the Biography of Ferdinand Hahn, my great great grandfather, so that I can go on to write a novel based on the life of his wife, Doris. I visited Ranchi, Jharkhand and the surrounding areas, for the first time, the place where my grandmother and great grandmother were born, where Ferdinand and Doris lived much of their lives as Gossner Missionaries. It was good to see the fruit of my ancestor’s labors: the church, the town council, the seminary, the schools, the hospitals, the grammar books, even some of the trees that had been planted in their time. I enjoyed sitting in the lobby of the guest house, to attempt to read the local Hindi Newspapers, only to be interrupted by a stream of people, mostly Adivasi Christians, who kindly carried on cheerful conversation, greeting me with smiles, “Yesu Sahay!” (Praise to Jesus) and a shake of the hand. I look forward to hearing these joyful songs of greetings again: It has been rewarding learning about the scope of my great great grandfather’s influence in his forty-two years of his work in this part of India. Even more rewarding has been how the work and the spirit in which the work had been done is carried on by a vibrant, self-sustaining church of committed Adivasi Christians. Those aware of their history are grateful for the legacy passed on to them by my great-great grandfather, my para-dada as they taught me to say in Hindi. While I had grown up in India I had never been among the Adivasi. Their hospitality and cultural expressions of kindness were poured out on us. Everywhere we were greeted with flowers and song or dance in the Sarda, Kurukh or Munda languages. After the song we would be sprinkled with water from a Sal-tree branch dipped in water. Then a woman would come with a lota (bowl) and tali (plate). Each one of us would extend our hands over the plate as water was poured over them. Then another woman would come and dry our hands with a towel. In the Adivasi villages it used to be a feet washing ceremony, but with the introduction of shoes, it has turned into a hand washing ceremony for guests. In many cases a piece of cloth would also be given to us as special visitors. This would be either a traditional tribal cloth, usually white with red needlework, or a wool shawl. I ended up returning with a full suite case full of these lovely gifts. I noticed in one home they had a trunk full of cloth, expressly for the purpose of having gifts to bestow on visitors. Likely many of these cloths would circulate around the community. The song and the dance was another central feature of their culture. I have recently met someone in Madison, Wisconsin, who is from Ranchi and wondered why his neighbors sang songs together at least twice every day. He could not distinguish that they were different songs, due to the common rhythm and tonality of the music. I noticed that the hymns sung in the church on Sunday were actually common German hymn tunes, but the way they were sung I felt they sounded more like the Adivasi traditional songs than a melody composed by Brahms or Sibelius. When I heard the singing in the church I imagined some German missionary of old standing before the congregation swinging in the air trying to maintain, in vain, the European rhythm and the three-part harmony. Actually I read that the Adivasi have a particularly keen ear for western music and in those days would present quite remarkable choral concerts for visiting western dignitaries. But today, having made old German hymns their own, they delight in singing their Adivasi bhajans (hymns written in local dialects) and songs. The Ranchi Christ Church is a remarkable building that was built in 1855. It is a tall cathedral in red clay. Today there are five services held every Sunday that are almost all full to overflowing. The interior is designed much like it was by the Germans 150 years ago. The old chandelier that once held candles is in disuse. The preacher’s pulpit, common to the old Lutheran churches, is high above the congregational seats. Where the choir now sits used to be where the missionaries sat and the large cloth punka (fan) is still strung above, though also in disuse. The wooden church pews seated 700 congregants. It was in this church where Ferdinand and Doris were married on December 8, 1871. Twenty-five years later, their oldest daughter, my great grandmother, Louise Nottrott, would also be married there. My grandmother, Marie Feierabend married twenty-five years later on the same date, but in the United States. As much as she tried, she could not make it to Ranchi to have the wedding there. A few months later she arrived in Orissa, just south of Ranchi, to start her missionary life with her husband Herman. So twenty-five years after that, when my parents were to be married, they had a lot of pressure to make the wedding date December 8th, but my dad had to start Medical School in St Louis and they didn’t want to wait, so they got married in October in Wisconsin. In honor of this family tradition I will see what kind of celebration I can have while I am there to commemorate December 8th in the big Red Church. There are many important commemorative dates that will be celebrated while I am there visiting this time. Mission Day is an opportunity for the Adivasi church to recognize its roots and to celebrate the spirit that continues to inspire the work that the early missionaries started. As I blog about my travels I plan to describe more about these various celebrations. The anniversary of the 1908 Chotanagpur Tenancy Act, a core legislation that favored Adivasi rights. The anniversary of the creation of the state of Jharkhand and birthday of Birsa Munda, the great Adivasi freedom fighter, who Ferdinand knew. The anniversary of the Bethesda School and the Church newspaper all having started in the times of Doris and Ferdinand. My writing project shifted focus over this past year. Initially I set out only to write a novel about a missionary woman, based on the life of my great great grandmother, Doris Hahn. During my trip to India this last spring I recognized that a biography about her husband, Ferdinand Hahn, would be of interest to the people in India who were impacted by him. I discovered I had two stories that I wanted to write. A biography would feature the legacy that I share with the Adivasi Christians of India who I never had been acquainted with before this year. The story of the woman behind the man then can be a compelling sequel. As I continue to blog about my travels and adventures in writing, there is yet another story to tell about those who benefited from Ferdinand and Doris Hahn’s legacy. This of course would include their direct descendants. Over the past few years I have had the great privilege to meet several distant cousins. In fact, one of the trips this year was to New Orleans to meet the descendants of Louis Voss, Doris’ brother. I was struck by the fact that some of these newly discovered distant cousins had actually met the relatives that I have only read about in my research. At the very least they knew the generation that followed Doris and Ferdinand. They had grown up with family stories and documents that had over the span of time and geography disappeared from my immediate family’s memory. Doris (nee Voss) and Ferdinand Hahn were German missionaries to British India from 1868-1915. I found it interesting that these various distant cousins knew stories of India either direct stories from family who had lived there or through stories from the circular family letters. The circular letter would travel to family living around the world; each member of the family would add news and send the letter on to the next family member. Intriguing details about India, such as snakes in the bathroom or the little water cup they carried with them always, were mysterious abstractions to those who had no connection to India. On the other hand, my immediate family—my father, mother and siblings—had a connection to India but not any memory of those first generation of missionaries to India. My father, now 91 years old, had spent most of his life also as a missionary in India. He continued following the missionary heritage, as did his mother and grandmother, all descending from Doris and Ferdinand. We grew up with a connection to India and missions, but we knew nothing of Doris and Ferdinand Hahn, even though Ferdinand was buried where we went to school in the foothills of the Himalayas. Making the connection with this past helps us understand a little better the importance of India, missions, and Germany in shaping our individual identity. My family was not alone in benefiting from this missionary legacy. What I had found out through research was further confirmed when I visited the place where Ferdinand Hahn had devoted his life’s work that had impacted the Adivasi’s of Chotanagpur. The Adivasi are the indigenous people of India that make up about 8 percent of the population. Most reside in the north east part of India. One region in particular just south of the Ganges and west of Kolkatta is what was once called Chotanagpur. The region now includes the newly formed state of Jharkhand and parts of West Bengal, Bihar, Chhattisgarh, and Odisha. The Adivasi have over several centuries been marginalized and discriminated against. Their unique culture set them outside of India’s stratified social structure. Despite attempts to repress and remove them from their ancestral lands, the cultural identity of the Adivasi has remained strong. Nearly half of them have adopted Christianity or continue with their Sarna religion that believes in one God and a spirit world. Ferdinand Hahn is one of a handful of German-speaking missionaries who are known for helping the people preserve their language, cultural identity, and rights to their land. I now have one more month before I leave for my second trip to Ranchi. I look forward to visiting the Gossner Theological College that is building a Research and Resource Center for Adivasi Studies that is dedicated to Ferdinand Hahn. I enjoyed last time being part of several interesting discussions about the impact Ferdinand Hahn had on Adivasi and Christian culture and history. I will enjoy continuing in that discourse with ministers, professors, teachers, social workers, advocates, and ordinary people. I will be staying again at the Guest House of the Human Resource Development Center (HRDC). I only hope that somehow I will have the opportunity to write in this environment. Here in the US it is very difficult to get a real sense of the life and culture there. Even though Ranchi (and the other towns in the surrounding area) is now a bustling metropolis, one can get a sense of the place. To see the palm trees that surround the compound that were planted a hundred years ago by the missionaries, or to feel the warm breeze of the changing season from winter to summer, or to smell the sweet sour smell of a stagnant pond or the waft of a spicy curry being cooked over a charcoal fire. Some things have not changed over the past century. This will be the 99th anniversary year of Doris' death. She died on August 19th and was buried in a tree laden cemetery on the side of a hill in the Hartz mountains overlooking the town of Hasserode, near Wernigerode. It was a bitter final year of her life. Her daughter died six months before her and her son-in-law died before that. We know that a deaconess nurse was caring for ailing missionaries in a missionary house somewhere in this little valley. There is no record of where this house might have been, but likely it was near the church at the bottom of the hill below the cemetery. sWhile I am focusing on writing the biography of her husband (who had died in India seven years earlier), I never forget about Doris and her story. There was no one left to maintain her grave. Just as the grave of her husband has been left forgotten. I am writing to revive their memory, not just for sentimental reasons. The lessons of their lives, both in Germany and India, in war and in peace, in sickness and in health, in life and death, speaks to the resilliance of faith and a greater good, higher vision. She must have missed her home and church back in India. What memories had she stored in her heart. As I was browsing through pictures of my past year's travels, I found this video taken in Ranchi. The hymn is Rock of Ages and was likely sung in Hindi at the time Doris left Ranchi in 1915. The women standing off to the left side of this video are standing where Doris would have stood. I looked up the words for the German version of the song, and thought they would be words that ran through her mind as she passed out of this world into the next: Now as I still live in the light When my eyes in death takes flight When through gloomy valley go When I stand before the throne Rock of Ages set me free Hid eternally in Thee. As I write the stories of these faithful ancestors. I long to bring the light of their life out of hiding. They cared not for glory, but in sharing their glory, and the glory of their God, I am continuously inspired and encouraged. I think of their stamina, their strength, their love, their sense of justice, their perseverance, unfailing hope, and perpetual joy. |
2016 -2020These musings include the journey of my writing on the history of my great great grandparents and the travels for research to India, Germany and other places of interest. Archives
June 2020
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