Musings on a Visit with my Foster Child, Lichma, 15 Years Old —  
Rajastan, India
 

After spending a few days in Bikaner I took a local bus to the field office at Lukanransar about 70 k from here, an hour's drive on good road, deeper into the desert. The Great Thar Desert is not all sand dunes as is more common of the Sahara but has a lot of scrub bushes and a type of thorn tree that does actually have green leaves on it. In certain areas the land is irrigated from the Indira Ghandi canal built in the 70s. The water comes from farther north, the Punjab region. The desert is definitely an arid land. People seem to often just eke out an existence. Not much of the land is irrigated and thus is dependent on the rains in July and August, if they come at all. They had a little the summer of 2005 but not nearly enough and are in another time of drought.

The bus stop at Lukanransar is basically a group of kiosks on both sides of the road, unlike Bikaner which has a full fledged bus depot. The UMRUL / Plan International folks said they would pick me up around 11 am but they are not here. This is Indian time, I remember! Not to worry. A kind older man who also got off the bus figured I was going to URMUL ( why else would a white boy be out here in the middle of the desert?) and assures me they would soon be here. Buses are often late anyway. He then happens to find a man who is from URMUL on his way to Bikaner, introduces us and he then calls (cell phones are everywhere) the office and in a few minutes Rajendra Singh arrives. He is in charge of all communications for Plan and other donor agencies. He puts me in a tuk tuk/auto rickshaw while he and another guy jump on his cycle and we make the 2k quickly.

On our arrival I meet Shilash, the secretary over all the URMUL programs in Rajastan. Secretary would be more what I might understand to be a Director. He is 28 years old and has the huge responsibility to bridge the gap between Indian culture, traditions, needs and the donor organizations from the various countries. It is a delicate job which needs someone like him who's culturally sensitive, articulate, knowledgeable and on top of that a diplomat. I am quite impressed with the presence of these qualities in him.

I might mention that prior to going to Lukanransar, Rajendra had stopped by my hotel and left a message suggesting I try to arrive around 11 am. Lichma and her father are scheduled to arrive at 12 noon. I am not able to go to Lichma's village because she lives in a restricted area close to the Pakistan and one needs to apply for a special permit which can take at least a month. Rajendra said if he had known when I was coming he could have obtained the permit. I actually had emailed him in plenty of time but he never got the email. Apparently the computer networks that far out in the desert are not always reliable. So it certainly was no fault of his but simply how things happen sometimes. It definitely gives one the opportunity to learn something about flexibility!

I then find out that Lichma will be arriving around 2:30 pm (Indian time again) so I have lunch with Rajendra and others who work there. URMUL is grounded on Ghandian principles so all workers live on the compound in free housing and all have their meals free as well in a communal dining hall. I say dining hall, nothing grandiose. Just a big empty room. We all sit on the floor on mats and eat with our fingers from individual metal plates. It really is delicious Indian food: potatoes and cabbage cooked in a wonderful sauce, a curry, yogurt, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions and freshly baked naan. All you can eat and more. And a wonderfully tactile way of engaging with one's food. There is good conversation with the Indian folks and sharing about families, jobs, professions, etc.

By this time Lichma has arrived but they came from 130 k away,and had to go in a round about way because of the no trespass zone of the military. Otherwise it would have been about 30k. So they had not had lunch yet. I am offered the guest house and rest for a half hour while they eat.

When we do meet, we all sit at a round table on the floor which is covered with carpets. Lichma and her father sit together and I am directly across from them. Three staff are there to assist and interpret. This, I am told, is the first time Lichma and her father have ever seen a foreigner much less a white boy, so this is a little awkward for them at first. Lichma is dressed in beautiful flowing orange/yellow silks and her father is dressed very neatly in his best clothes. Both appear very serious. As is the cultural imperative, Lichma never speaks one word from beginning to end to anyone. Girls from the village do not speak to men unless they are relatives or someone they know well. The father speaks for them. Lichma appears very shy and somewhat embarrassed, I notice. She looks sad and doesn't smile for a long time, rarely has eye contact and often looks down. Father seems kind and soft spoken and is somewhat uncomfortable too. I discover that Lichma got married this past April as a 15 year old. It was an arranged marriage. As I mentioned, she looked sad as she always did in pictures over the years. Later I ask Shilash about this and he says she isn't sad but because of the factors mentioned earlier she would not show her more usual behavior. As a Westener I still tend to wonder about this given the place of women in the villages. It also pointed out to me how a behavior can be misunderstood if one is not knowledgeable of a particular cultural situation. Lichma is not yet living with her husband but will do so in the near future. She has a 5th grade education and her new in-laws will not allow her to continue her education.

I bring several gifts for Lichma. One is a box of Indian sweets so I give them to her. She wasn't going to open it, perhaps because she is too shy or not knowing quite how to be in this unusual setting. But father takes the initiative and opens the box. All is quite serious and solemn. Then I give her a new harmonica in a case, pull out my own harmonica and play around a bit to demonstrate what to do with this thing! Again she is too shy to just blow on it so one of the staff encourages the father to do so. He does and smiles. Then he and the staff encourage Lichma to blow on it. In a few moments she does rather shyly, and behold, a smile breaks out across her face. She has such a beautiful smile and it lights up her face.

I give here a traditional piece of art made by URMUL artisans, a wall hanging, made especially for her which had both her and my name on it. I also bring a brass pot bought in the market in Bikaner to give to the father for the family but when I learn that Lichma got married I gave it to her instead which left nothing for the father and family. Shilash said it would be fine to do so and father would not be expecting anything anyway. The staff see this gift as being particularly useful and appreciated for its long lasting practical
value.

I dig in my day pack one more time while Shilash smiles and wonders if there is a bottom to it! So I pull out a few pencils too. As I give these gifts, I take photos with permission. When Lichma holds up the wall hanging, she holds it in from of her face! Again with encouragement and some direction she holds it to her side. Every now and then she smiles just a little. Of course, we all have chai during this time! Chai, chai! After a little more conversation and photos of Lichma, her father and I, they leave for their village. I try to express my deep appreciation for their coming all this way and my great pleasure in being with both of them. The father then thanks me for coming all the way from the U.S. to meet them. All this in translation of course. We do our namaste, the father and I have a warm handshake and speak mainly with our eyes and faces. The good-bye with Lichma is, you guessed it, a shy one with mostly downcast eyes.

Before I leave, Shilash and I walk over to a small open building which is what he laughingly says is the 'chai and gossip' center. It is where the workers gather to drink chai and catch up on what's happening. So we have another chai. There are quite a few men there, farmers from surrounding villages, who have come for further training in agriculture. One rather rugged, boisterous older man is going on about the rising cost of seeds and bio fertilizer. He is talking loudly, going around pointing his finger and gesticulating to make his point — all in Hindi. He eventually comes over to Shilash and me and continues. Shilash handles it well. Somehow I get involved and he is telling me his woes, too, and I don't understand a word of it. Actually, he is a jolly friendly guy. Soon about 15 men are all standing around the 3 of us as the conversation continues. This guy changes subjects a lot. At one point, knowing I am from the States, he begins talking about hurricane Rita and laughingly said if the president hadn't spread the government so thin in Iraq, Afghanistan,etc., he might have had some manpower to deal with the disaster!! I had no argument with that and said nothing. Finally we did our namaste, he vigorously shook my hand with a big friendly smile,
saluted and we went our own ways.

Wow! What a splendid day! I got back around 7:30 pm. I will say I was absolutely delighted with every moment. They were all most gracious folks and it is a time not to be forgotten.
Copyright © 2005 Wayne Yoder. All rights reserved.