Chapter Five, Section II
It was mid-September 1951, when Ruth and I returned to the field to find we had been posted to Bhavnagar. This decision came out of a Field Committee meeting of our four missionary families, held at Daulatapur. Lionel and Caroline Burton were able to get through from Surgapam because there had been a failure of the monsoon in August, exacerbating drought and famine conditions. James and Janice too, were able to make it to Daulatapur for the same reason. The Committee also confirmed the decision of the Home Board that the Burtons should leave soon for a well-earned furlough in Britain. This would leave three couples on the field - Anthony and Colleen Robeson at Daulatapur, James and Janice Russell at Karanja, Surgapam and ourselves at Bhavnagar, in Palamghat District.
Our colleagues told the sad news that opposition was on the increase but, at the same time, interest in the Gospel way of life was being stimulated by that very persecution and the way the Christians were able to face it. Mail was being opened in the Mandya Sub-Divisional post office by the Criminal Investigation Department so I wrote letters from Daulatapur with enclosed coded templates of a fixed size that would be placed over future letters bearing crosses at the top - "XXXX". The original template would be placed exactly over the standard size aerogramme, corner to corner. The special message would be written in the twenty-odd slots and, after removing the template, word padding would be inserted between the slots. The addressees in Australia, on receiving a letter marked "XXXX", would just cover it with the duplicate template and read the message in the slots. It was as simple as that and served well to get important information through to our parents.
During the period of persecution, so much mail was to be intercepted and even to "disappear", that eventually, we had to sent it in registered envelopes with "Acknowledgment Due", all the way to friends in Bombay. There, the sealed envelope was opened and the contents of letters posted in the regular way. Even important mail sent to the big town, Ranitola, only one hundred and fifty miles away, had to make this long, circuitous route, in order to arrive safely. This scheme was successful because the police did not touch registered mai1, however, it cost us a small fortune.
Conservative Hindu opposition groups such as the Arya Samaj, the Rashtriya Sewa Sangh (RSS), and further to the west, the Hindu Mahasabha, were breathing fire against the "White Missionaries". Almost weekly, in the "Statesman", we were reading derogatory reports on "missionary activities". It was quite obvious to us that the day was fast approaching when we expatriates would have to leave. It was resolved in that Field Committee Meeting that no time should be lost in preparing an indigenous ordained ministry of dedicated men and women who could progressively replace us in leadership.
Lionel was appointed Principal of the proposed Bible School to be set up in Bhavnagar, following his return from furlough. Meanwhile, those chosen for ministerial training, would be instructed in field work under James' leadership. After the return of the Burtons from Britain, Ruth and I would have a share in this training program. This meant that our Hindi had to be good, so every spare moment was spent in language study.
The committee also resolved that from January 1952, Ruth and I would have the administrative oversight of the boys' and girls' boarding schools at Bhavnagar. Also, I was appointed to supervise the erection of a new hostel for the girls. Ruth would be working with Lippi Masih, a very nice young "Bible Woman", who had been trained at the All-Asia Mission Seminary at Allahabad, U.P..
While we were all in Daulatapur, following the committee meeting, an important letter reached Lionel, by peon / “runner”, telling of exciting enquiries by tribal folk in the plateau area, south of Karanja. It was decided, therefore, to make an exploratory tour of that Samrapari plateau region, west through to Mahendrapur, where Anthony and Lionel, with the Jeep, would meet James and me on the 2nd of November. The Roman Catholics have a big work there, at the end of the motor road from Daulatapur. How we moved the family and all our baggage to Bhavnagar is a story in itself, with numerous boggings in streams, but we finally made it. No time was lost in organizing cycles and shoulder packs, with food, changes of clothes, boiled water and, as it could be chilly on the plateau at night, blankets also.
This was to be one of the
most exciting tours I have ever made. James, Bikram Khajuri, Golighat, and Jai
Kherima were my companions on this expedition, which was to last ten days.
Lionel would have given anything to join us, but it was too risky for him to
cross the Komela River, in case a flash flood cut him off from Caroline,
waiting in Daulatapur. With rail reservation to South India confirmed and the
sea passage also booked with P. & O. from Bombay, he had to remain on the
Daulatapur side of the river. Before leaving for furlough, he would have one
more chance to get a report on the exciting response to the Gospel when we met
him at Mahendrapur. From there, Anthony and Lionel would drive back to
Daulatapur while James, the team and I climbed up to the plateau to return to
Karanja, via Samrapari. This was to be such a dangerous trek that the local
Bhavnagar
"Please come to my house that we may commit this whole venture to the Lord," said Tilia Babu, one of the elders. Can I ever forget that occasion! This elderly brother in Christ embraced us one by one and gave his blessing. By the time he reached the last member, he was so elated in the Spirit that he broke down and wept and not one of us had a dry eye on that occasion.
There were times when we never could have found the courage to venture out into the remote, dense jungle and hitherto untouched villages, had it not been for the Strength we received through this devout man of God. Once more, embracing James, as the leader of the expedition team, he said, "Mai bhi chalunga" - "I too will go", - at least as far as the Bihar / M.P. border. Tilia Babu was also on the staff of the Bhavnagar Mission School, so he had to be back the next day, for classes.
After a twelve-mile ride through very thick jungle and a hard pull up several hills, we reached Bundi, centre of a strong Christian witness and not far from the Surgapam border. This village, with an active church and primary school, is just a few miles from each of the neighbouring villages of Bengagaon, Ugratola, Kwambipur and Ramkuri. Never before, had I seen such a mighty moving of the Holy Spirit. People were literally risking their lives to accept Jesus Christ and his way of life.
So often, we missionaries were kept aloof from the indigenous folk, but not on this trek. We ate together, slept together, prayed together and suffered together. Wherever we went, in nearly every Uraon village on both sides of the border, we were garlanded and welcomed in the traditional way by having our feet washed and oiled. It is a very gracious custom made even more beautiful when done in the Name of Jesus. We could have spent long hours at Bundi and the neighbouring villages but had to press on to Karanja before the wild bears threatened our safety. It was quite obvious that, in a very short time, many enquiries would be made openly for Christ and there would be hundreds of baptisms. I asked myself repeatedly if we were adequately equipped, spiritually, to meet such an imminent response.
Half way to Karanja, we passed through Karchand where we had to meet with Jatibhai, one enquirer who, like Laxshman, had risked his all to know Jesus. This day we were to learn that his life had been threatened. "I cannot go back, Sahib," he said to James, in his local dialect. "We were so long in the darkness, so long being harassed by the "bhoots" (evil spirits) that to return to our former existence would be worse than death itself. " Jatibhai used the illustration of being in the jungle in the pitch dark of night and of seeing a light in the far distance, between the trees, just as we had seen Janice Russell's lamp on that drive from Daulatapur to Bhavnagar, earlier in the year. "We must reach that light, cost what it may." Jatibhai remarked fearlessly.
In Karchand village, there were several powerful families bitterly opposed to the Gospel and to further exacerbate our problem, the border police had their "Naka" check post on the outskirts. How our hearts ached for Jatibhai, knowing the painful price he may have to pay for his courageous faith. What impressed me about these simple folk was their humility. The dynamic zeal we were seeing was a direct result of people like Jatibhai coming to understand both their unworthiness and their potential.
When talking about that distant light by which he illustrated the working of Christ in the area, he said, "We have a long way to go to reach that light. " He really meant that morally, he and the tribe were not worthy of coming into that light. Of course, it was this very humility that made him acceptable in the sight of God and the recipient of Spiritual Power that was flowing into the lives of many people in that village.
It was sunset when we reached Karanja and how grateful we were to see the pre-fab. bamboo hut still standing. Lionel had made a good job of erection and the mud-plastered walls made the interior quite cosy. We didn't sleep too well that night because the police had threatened Laxshman again with a beating. Next day he would join us in visiting some of the neighbouring villages where the Holy Spirit was working in a remarkable way. These were Sahaganj, Bhednadi and Banskuri.
There is no doubt about it; in Christ we are dealing with a Power that the physicists haven't yet dreamed of. The greatest miracle I ever have witnessed is that of lives being transformed from fearful, cringing, superstitious, self-centred creatures with no hope, to radiant people - persons with dignity, love and concern for others. But the making of such a miracle is not without a price and we were beginning to feel afraid that someone, very soon, was going to make that supreme sacrifice.
The atmosphere was electric as it must have been for the disciples when Jesus "steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem". (Luke 9:51). Our "Jerusalem" was looming up and this drew us all close together - very close, in "togetherness". In the New Testament, this is "Koinonia" - a sharing of one another in intimate relationships of suffering love and a caring for one another as can only be experienced in such a one-ness of mind and spirit - in Christ. It is also participation on the part of Christ himself as, through us, he continues to pour out his life in service and suffering for others. In such a situation, one calls to mind what it must have been like for the early Christians, who were never quite sure just when the Roman soldiers would drag them off to be fed to the lions. There must have been a precious richness among them that the "world" can never imagine.
"Confess your sins one to another and pray for one another that you may be healed" (James 5:16 RSV), is a Biblical injunction that our Indian colleagues insisted upon almost as an article of faith. On several occasions, in response to an enquirer asking for Gospel teaching and baptism, I heard Golighat ask the potential convert, "Is there any person in your family or village whom you don't like?" Invariably, there was at least one against whom resentment was held. Where possible, Golighat would say, "Go on, make it up. Shake hands. Forgive him. Put your arms around him and love him." Unfortunately, the Protestant stream of Christianity, in over-reacting to the Catholic practice of "The Confessional", has thrown the baby out with the bath water, as it were and deprived itself of a dynamic healing ministry of the Holy Spirit. Protestant theologians, in claiming that there is only one mediator between God and his people, Jesus Christ, often fail to realize that Christ is found in human relationships (Matt. 25:36), where we should all, as priests, minister one to another. (I Pet. 2:5).
Admittedly, Golighat's method of achieving reconciliation didn't always work, but there were precious times when, in tears of joy, two previous enemies would become not only united in each other but also in Christ. What greater miracle could there be than when a respectable villager breaks down in an atmosphere of prayer and confesses to attitudes and behaviour that had been hidden even from his closest family members and friends. That is the work of the Holy Spirit.
Theologians have yet to come up with a really satisfying explanation of prayer. Perhaps scientists, who are beginning to believe that there is "some sort of master-mind out there", will someday help theologians understand just what gives prayer its dynamic, especially when it is the joint expression of a group of humble and concerned people. Few psychologists and psychiatrists will deny that there are some people who seem to have special psychic gifts such as extra-sensory perception. Identical twins often have a bond between them that far exceeds a biological oneness.
Much research is going on in this field. Only a short time has passed since the discovery of a variety of "rays" -X-Rays, Ultra-Violet Rays, Infra-Red Rays, Ultra-Sonic Rays, to name just a few. The Laser Beam is promising or threatening to revolutionize modern technology. But what about "prayer waves or rays"? Here is something that cannot, as yet, be scientifically explained but only experienced. All I know is that, given the right conditions, prayer "works".
Those early pioneering days in Surgapam convinced me that tremendous energy is received and released through prayer when all the necessary criteria are met. Efficacious prayer can really be worked out in an environment of togetherness when out-going, loving and humble people of one- mind, perhaps operating on one “frequency", beam their concerns on one particular issue.
There is much that I just cannot understand, but one thing I do know is that when that little company of simple tribal people who, like Australian Aboriginal folk, have a deep sense of "Spirituality", forgot themselves and their own needs and fixed their minds on the needs of others, Power was generated. When they were prepared to love even their tormentors who threatened their very lives, they made contact with a "Life-Force" beyond themselves. You may call "Him" / "Her" what you will -- "God", the "Holy Spirit", "Ultimate Reality", "Divine Energy" or just some sort of dynamic "Being" -- but all Ruth and I can share with you, out of our own experience, is that "We are not alone"!
The Uraons, in particular, were bound together by one common purpose as a mother is bound by love to her baby. When that baby is taken from its mother, either by sickness or by force, tremendous energy is released that may drive the mother to take action, which, under normal circumstances, would not be humanly possible. We saw this happen many times in India when a distraught mother would beat her breasts, bash her head violently against the wall, or pound her forehead into the ground.
Sometimes it would take a whole day for all the energy to be expended, finally leaving the poor woman completely exhausted. Mother and child had been bound together by forces and energies, the countering of which could have only the most traumatic consequences. People in Christ are lovingly bound together by divine energies which, when through prayer in the "Name" of Jesus and in accordance with his criteria, are beamed in on the mind of God, produce nothing less than ---- Miracles.
During those days of persecution and vibrant evangelism, the churches in our area had many real "charismatic" experiences. It was all so spontaneous as we sat on the very threshold of suffering and perhaps death itself. We experienced no "speaking in tongues", though I feel sure that, had we remained too long in that state of rapture, there could well have been such psychic manifestations.
Being "in Christ" is a very emotional experience which, if allowed to become too subjective, degenerates into mere emotionalism, making some Christians rather wary of the "Charismatic Movement" as they face the dilemma of not knowing which is real and which is false. One helpful indicator is to observe its effect on our attitudes towards others. If the "Movement" makes us more impartially loving, considerate of others, concerned for those less fortunate than ourselves, more like Jesus, it's probably the genuine thing.
One interesting observation is that, also within the fundamentalist extremes of Hinduism and Islam, there can be somewhat similar ecstatic expressions of religious fervour that are really quite frightening.
Yes, in those days,
emotions ran high. Many of us did get the shivers, which was the way I felt
when I first touched the hand of my future wife. I guess it is like being in
love and if lovers can get the tremors, then why not the
Time did not permit us to remain too long in such a mountaintop experience. We had to go down into the valley and, for us, that valley reached right up into the confluence of two mountain rivers. The going was tough because, on many occasions, we could not ride our cycles for there were no tracks. Few people even walked that narrow path. Carrying our cycles with their attached saddle- bags, as well as the packs on our backs, and the precious water bottles, made us very tired.
However, it was encouraging to find that, whenever we reached a village, a welcoming party was there to greet us and offer a place to rest. We found out later that Laxshman had always arrived before us, having taken short cuts through the jungle to make prior-arrangements for our hospitality. It took nearly a whole day to climb the mountainside to Samrapari Plateau, at 3,500 feet. The view towards Karanja, Bhavnagar and beyond in the direction of Daulatapur, was breathtakingly beautiful and more than compensated for our aching muscles.
How grateful we were to receive shelter for the night in the home of friendly enquirers. That night, James and I shared our abode with the cows, buffaloes, dogs, rats, cockroaches, bed bugs and mosquitoes. Also, we must have had contact with less visible creatures, because both of us ended up with a bout of dysentery. My heart went out to Ruth for she had a bad attack, followed by a severe dose of 'flu, before leaving Daulatapur. By the time she had recovered, she was skin and bone.
How happy I was to know that, back at Bhavnagar, she was in Janice's gentle hands. James and I were now many miles from proper medical care but we had heard that, sometimes, there is a doctor at Kushmangal, about fifteen miles beyond Samrapari. Latest reports, however, indicated that the new doctor would not take up his duties there for another month. "Meanwhile, we shall die," I thought.
I tried to get accommodation in some house near the outskirts of the various villages so that it would be less embarrassing during the night when "nature called", but in every village, we seemed to be hemmed in by many mud huts. A village may have a population of over one thousand people with not a single toilet! What to do?
With dysentery, this can be a very great problem, especially in the early hours of the morning when all the village folk head for the fields to defecate. The scavenger pigs can read one's mind and they follow you to the field and fight among themselves to be closest to you. Yuk! But that's the Real India and I was getting closer to it, day by day. Because of the continual urge to relieve myself during the night, sleep did not fully come and this added to my state of exhaustion.
James and I became most depressed on this trek, but a greater measure of dejection overtook us on reaching Sabenaghat. We found that one of the Roman Catholic priests from the Mahendrapur Mission had arrived there before us, having received a "tip off". He had cautioned the villagers not to accept us lest we force them to give up their alcohol. As it was, we had no need to pressurize our enquirers to give up the booze because most of their own responsible leaders realized that alcohol was destroying their very culture.
The local folk at Sabenaghat told us that if they went with the Roman Catholics, the Fathers would even get them Government permits to brew their own "haria" (rice beer) and distil their own "daru", a spirit made from Mahua fruit.
Later, I developed a very
close and friendly relationship with the Mahendrapur “Fathers”, but this was
one issue on which we could not agree -
alcohol. Unfortunately, they had the idea that Communion wine had to be
fermented. Sadly and paradoxically, while the Holy Communion was designed to be
a source of great blessing for the
Although the Roman Catholics were doing a wonderfully good job in the educational, medical and agricultural areas of service, this "religious" aspect was one of the great weaknesses in their work that spread on the plateau from the Mahendrapur Mission, resulting also in a serious personal alcohol problem for some of the Fathers.
As alcohol is the most devastating drug to adversely affect the development of the Australian Aboriginal people, so with the Uraons and other Indian tribal groups, ruthless brewers and winery barons took full advantage of the booze to exploit these simple yet gullible Adivasis.
It was at Mahendrapur that we finally met Lionel and Anthony on the 2nd. November, after somehow making that last six miles on foot, leaving our bikes back at Sabenaghat. The track on the mountain face down to the valley was so rocky that I doubt if we could have ridden our bikes more than a mile. Besides, we had had so many tire failures due to sharp stones between Samrapari and Sabenaghat that we ran short of patching material and hoped to buy some at Mahendrapur.
After a conference, we finally decided to drop all hopes of making a break through into the plateau areas, a decision that Lionel was able to communicate to the British Home Board. It was heartbreaking for us to turn our backs on what we thought was a potential field for service, but we had to be pragmatic. Anthony, as Mission Treasurer, had brought with him a letter from the British Home Board stating that, while they had finally agreed to us going into Surgapam, they could not endorse further development with such difficult lines of communication. Further to that, the American Disciples Mission, in the Bilaspur District of M.P., which earlier had given hopes of helping us financially, had become deeply involved in Orissa with the Baptists who had a work similar to ours in Surgapam. Anticipated funds from that source could no longer be expected but the Disciples did offer to help us in the construction of twelve drinking wells.
Although we were not able to report to Lionel anything exciting about our Samrapari Plateau expedition, we could and did share with him the great news that hundreds of baptisms were now imminent in the Champapur area. Yet we feared what would burst upon us as soon as the Uraon tribals publicly declared their faith in Christ. James and I knew what was about to happen, just as Jesus knew what lay ahead for him at the end of the road to Jerusalem.
How I longed to be able to return to Daulatapur with Lionel and Anthony in the Jeep. Dr. Mrs. Kishore would give me soothing medicine for my burning entrails; I would rest up in the comfortable Number Two bungalow and forget this whole crazy business. And it would be lovely to go on with Lionel and Caroline to South India and then to Bombay to take the ship to London!
Dysentery had robbed me not only of physical strength, also it was weakening my rational faculties. I was most melancholy and, no doubt, James was too, but he, a stoic Scot, never showed it. He always gave the impression that he was never flustered about anything. It was his spirit of tenacity, which also kept me going. Back up that hard six-mile trek on foot to Sabenaghat we slogged and from there, along the top of the plateau to Samrapari for another stopover, this time next to the police station. Little did we know at the time, that later, we were to have a very close relationship with the officer in charge of this outpost! This time, however, we just happened to get accommodation in the house next door, fortunately, while the officer was away, on tour.
We could not get down the mountainside and back to our loved ones quickly enough. Leaving James in Karanja, I continued on the last twenty-two miles to Bhavnagar and flopped into bed. My whole body ached and I was so glad that Janice would stay on in Bhavnagar a few more days before joining James in Surgapam. She was a wonderful nurse and Ruth and I owe much to her, for she laid the foundation for what was to become our own medical work through the “Nav Jiwan (New Life) Leprosy Clinic”. By the time Janice was ready to move out to Surgapam, all her baggage having previously been sent by coolie, I too, was feeling well enough to make the twenty-two miles with her as escort.
With all the last-minute details delayed due to so many folk wishing to farewell her, we were rather late in leaving Bhavnagar, which always worried us because the bears come out around sunset. With so many ups and downs and so many places where we had to carry our cycles, Janice was feeling a little out of breath. Just as James had to urge me on during that exhausting climb back to Sabenaghat, so I had to encourage Janice, lest we be caught in the jungle after dark. "Come on Janice," I urged, "Only another five miles to go. It won't be long now."
But Janice's overweight condition was getting the better of her and she now really was lagging behind. Arriving at the Cherroban River, only a few wiles from Champapur and Kananja, what do you think we found? Right there in the river, about a hundred yards upstream, were three large bears. They were drinking at a water hole they had dug in the sand bank. I could never have imagined the potential strength that is stored up in the human body. All we need to get us going at full speed is a shot of Adrenalin, so Janice really worked overtime when she spotted those bears. Whereas I had been in the lead, urging her on, now she was well ahead and able to race me to Karanja! Down through the years, this has been one of our many mutually exciting experiences over which we have reminisced.
Before leaving Bhavnagar, Janice had just about contained the Cholera epidemic. A few people died, but not as many as we had expected. It was a great tragedy that Smallpox also had struck our area and reports were coming through that people had started to die in the villages of Pandrapatam and Chetkiha, only ten miles away. On the next trip through to Daulatapur, I would try to secure anti-smallpox vaccine. James had sent a long list of goods to purchase, including several dozen crowbars, sledgehammers, and kudalis (something like a mattock) for constructing the drinking wells.
One of the important-looking Government letters I forwarded to James with the last lot of mail, turned out to be a memo from the District Forest Officer, requesting him to take delivery of hundreds of tools and baskets to be used in the famine relief work on the Bhavnagar to Gochadaga road. How did James expect me to bring all this gear back from Daulatapur in the little Dodge truck? I guessed that I would have to make several trips. Because he was so much tied up in preparing the converts for baptism, much of the oversight of the roadwork fell to me. This required regular oversight of distribution of the relief grains from the Government store, the key of which James had entrusted to me. I had to confer with the Government official in the Tribal Welfare Department on fixed ration days, because the doors were double-locked and each of us had separate keys to fit separate locks.
The severity of the famine was such that it was now clear that the two hundred tons of food grains in stock were totally insufficient, but we had to do our best. The arrangement was that the Mission should purchase the food grains - rice, wheat and milo (sorghum) - at Government-controlled prices, fixed to suit the purchasing power of the poor. By selling the grains, we would recover our money. To secure extra funds, as a loan, we sought help from the Home Board, but to no avail. They were operating this India field on a bank overdraft, the amount of which was staggering, often as high as 600 pounds Sterling. However, the turnover of sales was so fast that we felt it would not take long for us to recover our money.
Anthony, as Mission Treasurer, could release all available Mission funds, and we three missionary families also would invest all we had personally, to purchase as much relief food as possible. In this way, we felt sure that further deaths due to starvation could be averted. There were a few outstanding creditors whom we hoped would be kind to us and we had enough petrol in stock to maintain contact with Daulatapur until, progressively, our money could be recovered on sale days. With a real threat of the Chinese army invading further into Assam, we always had to be sure of adequate petrol stocks in case a quick getaway was necessary.
Accordingly, Anthony withdrew all available Mission funds from the bank and the Russells, Robesons and ourselves invested all the personal money we could spare. In the end, our combined resources were reduced to one piece of paper giving us claim to several hundred tons of grains. If a storm had blown the roof off the food store at Bhavnagar, we would have been finished, because nothing was insured, nor could it be insured. Government relief trucks delivered the grains and it was now up to us to sell them and thus reimburse ourselves. So much of my time was spent in relation to the road relief work and travelling to and from Surgapam, that I had little time to help Ruth in the regular activities of a busy mission compound. But that is her story.
Chapter Five, Section ***III
Those first months in our new posting at Bhavnagar really put our family to the test. It had been a very hot year, following the early cessation of the monsoon in August. As Keith has already mentioned, I was ill, very ill and had lost so much weight that, wherever I went, I always had to take a cushion to protect my skin and bones. Dr. Mrs. Kishore was wonderfully kind, not only to me, but to the children and also Colleen Robeson who had a very serious attack of malaria, leaving her, also, looking rather emaciated.
I had not recovered fully by the time we had to move to Bhavnagar to administer the work there. This included an elementary school, girls and boys hostels, along with the medical and relief work. There was the Bhavnagar district work also, including the pastoral oversight of the churches and their primary schools at Pandrapatam, Mahugola, Jamaulghar and Bundi. Coupled with that was the ever expanding number of night adult literacy classes. On top of all those responsibilities were the constant demands of the Surgapam field - having to load up and dispatch porters.
Caring for young children is, in itself, a full-time job, especially having to keep them out of the dirt and away from flies and mosquitoes, which can often lead to serious illness. Coaxing the children to eat not very palatable foods, at a time when the heat and humidity suppress the appetite, can be very exhausting and time consuming. Keith and I were privileged to have a few days with Janice before she went out to join James. It was she who introduced me to some shocking midwifery cases, also people with tuberculosis, worms, dysenteries, malaria and burns. Oh, those burns! Will I ever forget my first really bad case, Litengalu, who had suffered first, second and third degree burns to just about the whole front of his body.
In those early pioneering days, there were two people in the Bundi area who were instrumental in bringing many to Christ. One was Litengalu, my burn man and the other was Biginali, Keith's bear woman. Litengalu's father had been a witch doctor and was one of those in the Bengpalur area, east of Bundi, who was challenged to give up his magic and accept Christ. Litengalu, the son, had had his career determined for him. He was to have become the village "ouji" to carry on in his father's footsteps, but Christ had better things for him.
He decided, therefore, once and for all, to rid the house of all the implements of his witchcraft - the gunpowder and other pyrotechnics, ghee (clarified butter) etc.. The ghee was still suitable for cooking, but because his father had used it in magic rites, he felt that it too, should go. So the ghee was buried, and its empty pot stored in a dark room until it could be cleaned for re-use.
By mistake, Litengalu put the wrong pot on the fire, not the one that had contained the ghee, but the one full of gunpowder! There was a terrific explosion and Litengalu, who had been squatting in front of the mud stove, wearing only a thin loincloth, was critically burned. Not one person in the village thought he could possibly survive.
As was the custom, relatives tried to cover his shocking injuries with traditional concoctions of cow-dung, mud, ashes and resins, but Litengalu, with what strength he could muster, fought them off and insisted that they take him on a bed to the Mission, a walk of about fifteen agonizing miles. I gasped when I lifted the sheet covering this poor man who arrived with a Bible under his pillow.
I felt nauseated when I saw skin draping from some parts of his body. His hands, face, thighs, buttocks, legs and chest were critically burned black. Many people with burns almost as bad as these die in Western lands and here we were expected to heal and save when we had had no formal medical training.
It took me half an hour each morning to remove the dead skin, little by little. Unless the charred tissue is removed, the injury will not heal. In a proper hospital, Litengalu would have been anaesthetized and scrubbed down, but I had to do it the hard way, with no facilities for sedating my patient. It hurt me as much as it did Litengalu and neither of us could have endured a session longer than thirty minutes. We had a good supply of penicillin ointment and sodium penicillin injections, which had to be given every four hours, day and night.
What impressed me was the spirit of concern that our local Christians had for each patient, encompassing them with prayer. So far as I was concerned, such a medical triumph was a miracle! Litengalu survived that ghastly ordeal and went on to become a person of radiant faith and a leader in his community. He studied in school to the eighth grade and this, with theological training, equipped him to lead almost his entire village to Christ. To this day, there is a church at Bengpalur and it all started when a witch doctor surrendered to the love of Christ.
Bhavnagar had a weekly market and each Saturday, while Litengalu had been under treatment, streams of people from the Bengpalur area visited the Bhavnagar mission compound to see how the "New God" was working. What frightened me almost as much as these terrible burn cases - and Litengalu was only one - were people suffering from malaria. And we had so much of it in that first year. I shall never forget our first really bad case of cerebral malaria.
One night, after we had retired, there was a terrible piercing scream, which, at first, sounded like some animal in the jungle. But no, it was human, obviously someone in considerable distress. We knew that our cook, Baidnath's son, Prititas, had malaria badly and Keith had planned to take him to Daulatapur next morning, but when he found it was Prititas who was screaming, he decided to set off immediately, driving through the night.
A friend had been visiting Baidnath's family and decided to practice his medical skills. However, instead of applying cold water to the head, Lucima suggested heat, calling for an earthen pot filled with hot ashes to put under Prititas's head to "drive out the evil spirit”! He was just about to administer opium when Keith stepped in to rush the boy to Daulatapur, where Dr. Mrs. Kishore informed that, had we arrived much later, Prititas could have died or suffered permanent brain damage.
As there was so much malaria prevalent at the time, Keith brought back a large stock of quinine injections and tablets. In those days, we had none of the anti-malarial drugs in use today, but saved many lives with simple quinine treatment. Often we woke in the morning, looked out of the window only to see people with malaria, just dumped in front of our house during the night. Their families had given up all hope - well, all but the hope they had in us.
The success we had with Prititas and all the other malaria cases, who survived, was expanding our medical work beyond our ability to cope. Along with the responsibility of running the clinic during Keith's travels to Daulatapur and Surgapam, I also had all the other chores demanding attention. At the time, we had six schools, all supplies for which came through our hands. Between trying to make bread and feed the children, I had to sell the slates, pencils, erasers, ink tablets and textbooks. In Keith's absence, I sometimes had to pay the workers. When time permitted, I went with Lippi Masih on pastoral visits. There never was a free moment to call our own. Even during the night, it was a regular thing to be wakened to attend to some desperately ill patient and sometimes we weren't disturbed but simply woke to find these near-dead people waiting at our door.
In the heat of summer, when we slept outside under the mosquito net, we often woke in the morning to find the patients squatting right beside our bed! One such man had an enormous facial infection resulting from accidentally cutting a pimple during shaving. The magnitude of the infection and suppuration was such that we had to insist on a liquid diet. In our thinking, there was no way this patient could take solid food, for his mouth was full of huge boil-like eruptions that extended down into his throat. This was a most difficult case.
We had treated others with far less chance of recovery when they first came, but they responded encouragingly. This latest one seemed so sure that he was going to die that it was as though he wanted to. He was getting the best available antibiotic treatment, but there was no response. Just what was wrong? Eventually, we discovered that he had lost all hope. Utter despair had set in - a sort of "death syndrome" - resulting from his diet.
We thought a nourishing liquid diet would best meet his need, but no need can be satisfied for the Uraon tribals without rice, the staple food of life. We soon realized the psychological value of giving even just a little rice, maybe only a few grains, which has a real therapeutic effect. Even where there seems to be no hope at all, we must first maintain our own hope and with that, enthuse others to believe that we have not reached the end of the road. At last, this patient recovered on the same antibiotic injections, plus the main liquid diet and a minute ration of rice.
Psychology played an important role in our medical work. There were some for whom a tablet or capsule was quite adequate treatment but these patients thought they needed injections and it was obvious that, unless they received what they wanted, they would not recover. For such patients, along with their proper medication, we had plain distilled water, which we coloured with Vitamin B Complex. It did the trick. Also, in cases where pain accompanied various ailments, we found that different coloured aspirin tablets worked wonders.
There were the rich who, although needing only simple and available remedies, demanded the very best, in keeping with their social status! For them, we "imported" by airmail from Europe or the US, very costly medicines! Their "special foreign treatment", which, generally was normal saline, coloured as above, was delayed while we waited for the overseas mail! Meantime, their real treatment continued as a "supplement". This technique, justified by "situational ethics", proved to be a real source of revenue to help the poorer patients!
But there were times when we could not comply with the patients' requests. On one occasion, a Hindu priest came with a bad stomach pain. In his reading, he found a reference to "protein" which he believed was just the cure he needed. Also, he read that eggs are rich in protein but, being a vegetarian, he was not permitted to eat them. Desire got the better of his faith and he wanted an egg, but not by mouth. Lifting his shirtfront, he exposed his bulbous abdomen to which he pointed and said, "Sooey chahiey" - "I want it by injection! "
During the early part of our ministry at Bhavnagar, we had a whole series of enormous hand and foot infections, triggered off by thorns produced by a certain bush that grew in our area. We never were quite sure if the thorns were poisonous in themselves, or whether the unhygienic methods used to extract them caused the infection. The patients always were brought to us at the "eleventh hour", after all the tribal concoctions had been tried. In some cases, there was such a massive destruction of flesh, particularly the supportive tissue around the blood vessels that the whole putrid mess actually pulsated with the heartbeat!
One of my special
interests was the Sunday School, in particular, the lessons we taught through
"expression work". Most of the material we used for the handwork was
obtained locally and, where possible, at no cost. The interest stimulated by
this type of teaching attracted quite a number to Sunday School and helped to
give many of the community's future leaders a stable, moral and caring
life-Style. What a thrill it was for me, on returning to the field in 1979, to
find that one of my former Sunday School scholars, Francois Gidhikom, following
graduation and ordination to the ministry, had been appointed Superintendent of
the District
One particular interest that gave me much satisfaction and, at the same time, developed for the women a sense of dignity and self-esteem, was a variety of handicrafts. These included crochet, embroidery and, for more money-saving and practical purposes, sewing and knitting. Many years later, in 1976, while we were visiting our son, Paul, who was then a UNICEF Field Officer based in Lucknow, he displayed some handicraft materials which one of his staff had bought and which immediately caught my eye. These were samples of what UNICEF had been encouraging women to learn. I could hardly believe my eyes. "Why that's my very own design, " I exclaimed. It was almost an exact replica of what I had taught over twenty years earlier. Bhavnagar came within Paul's area of jurisdiction and one of his field workers had produced this specimen to show just what potential the adivasi tribals had to develop new skills!
Ruth Skillicorn and Nilima, one of Ruth's key helpers.
Nilima became a nursing aid in our New Life Leprosy Clinic.
Nilima dressing wounds of a burn victim
We later discovered that Nilima, another of Baidnath's daughters, to whom I had taught these skills, had been appointed leader of the UNICEF Women's Development Project. Twenty years later, she was still passing on her expertise to those in her care. Yes, being a wife and a mother on the mission field has rewards that money could never buy.