I Survived Rush Hour

             It has become clear in the past couple weeks that no amount of blogging or picture taking could sufficiently convey the richness and ridiculousness of living in a huge city bursting with all forms of life and death. Every day, I am confronted with something that seems totally shocking. Every day, I become more aware of the rhythms of my small neighborhood and its inhabitants (who, I have learned, somehow already know everything about me). Every day, the lens through which I see this city shifts just a degree, highlighting previously unnoticed facets of a culture that still confuses me. Every day, I develop new questions and answer others. Previously, I had somewhat naively hoped to share the moment-by-moment here, with you, but I have been gifted with an everyday that is (at least for now) dripping in abundance of experience that can’t be fully recorded. So for now, let me mention one little facet of this experience that is right now peeking through the curtains: traffic.

Traffic in this city is unlike anything I have ever experienced. Even now, at 11:53 pm, I can hear horns honking as drivers play chicken on their way home from a late dinner. There are technically lanes painted on some of the main roads and laws about red lights, but they serve as mere suggestions, to be noted and then enthusiastically ignored. Here, people use their horn as the all-encompassing Indicator. If someone turns, they honk. If they are stopping, they honk. If they are coming up on a pedestrian, they honk. Rush hour is a sight that no one should (or can) miss. With the lights and fumes and sounds and beggars at every red light, traveling is truly an assault on the senses. Here is a list of all the methods of transport I have seen thus far on the road nearest my apartment:

Cars- Some of them are broken down, most of them are Japanese and all of them are missing at least one mirror.

Buses- They come in a variety of colors but are all equal in their level of dilapidation and dangerousness. I have not met one person here who has not adamantly insisted that I never ride a bus.

Metro- Ok, I haven’t seen these on the road, but they travel above main roads.

Taxis- The demand for taxis is so high that you never know whether or not you’ll be able to book one.

Cycle rickshaw- Imagine a bike connected to a covered metal bench with two wheels and a driver who slaps his seat every time he sees you, yelling “Madam, rickshaw!”

Auto rickshaw- Three-wheeled green and yellow automobiles whose drivers always drive fearlessly through even the most congested of rush hours.

Pedestrians- There are no sidewalks. All pedestrians have death wishes.

Bikes- A.K.A. ‘motorcycles’.

Cycles- bicycles, but only the rusty kind.

Flatbed rickshaws-These rickshaws are small but have the ability to carry just about anything. One man with this kind of rickshaw moved my entire bed across two towns with his rickshaw and a bicycle. (For less than $2.)

Closed trucks- Used for transporting much larger items. They all have the phrase “Honk Please” scrawled across the back in bright paint.

Open trucks- If you want to move your entire harvest, complete with agricultural workers, hire an open truck.

Construction equipment- Constant construction means that there are often large cranes in the middle of traffic.

Oxen- This weekend I saw my first ox-in-the-road. It was pulling a gigantic cart of what may have been wheat. Or potatoes. No one but me seemed to notice.

              This list seems extravagant but I kid you not: if it moves, someone is moving it. And probably against the flow of traffic.

                On my first evening at the new apartment, I successfully caught a metro back to my neighborhood. Upon exiting the gate and forcing my way through the throng of eager rickshaw drivers, though, I discovered that I needed to be on the other side of the road. Normally this would not be a problem, but this road is a two-way, six lane highway that was jammed with honking travelers at the very peak of rush hour. Where there was too little space for a car, there was an auto rickshaw. Where the autos could not squeeze, there were bikes. Where there were no bikes, there were bicycles. To me, it seemed sheer chaos.

                As I stood on the edge of this road, I actually posed the question “How do I cross the road?” aloud. After failing to find a crosswalk (now I laugh at the thought), I re-entered the metro station, elbowed my way to the information desk, and asked the metro attendant (and consequently about 10 other curious on-lookers) about how to cross the road. The resulting stares from this small crowd were nothing less than incredulous. Finally, the attendant pointed with his finger out to the road and said, “You cross it”. The option of physically walking across this road was still so out of the realm of possibility to me that I thought he must be confused by my question. So again, I asked him (and the crowd of on-lookers, now around 15), “Yes, but how do I cross the road?” After a couple of these exchanges, it finally dawned on me that, yes, this man was actually saying that my one option was to walk outside and face the crazy rush hour monster with my own two feet.

               By this point, the crowd was beginning to ripple in laughter so I said my adieu’s and scuttled back out into the noise. I went over to the edge of the road with the hesitation of a kid whose friends have dared him to dive off the highest platform. After one long look into the oncoming traffic, I took a few moments to get my spiritual affairs in order before the big dive. Luckily, two men chose that moment to take the ambulatory leap, so I scurried after them, head down, pride slaughtered, and sins only partially confessed, across what was really ten lanes of traffic.

                This is one of the many moments of the past two weeks I know I will look back on with laughter.

                Where is hope this week? I found hope in a church bursting at the seams with people singing Matt Redman’s “10,000 Reasons” this Sunday. There was hope in watching the new littler of stray puppies play in the park outside my apartment. The respect my co-workers have for one another gives me so much hope. Hope even showed up when I got lost after sunset in an unfamiliar part of town last week.

                If you pray, thank the Lord for safety, for a church community and for new friends  these past couple weeks. Thank Him for the work of IJM and for people who have chosen to give themselves to positively influencing a flawed criminal justice system. Pray for the millions of people in South India working in horrific situations, that they may experience Hope. Pray for continued safety and health of both me and my co workers.

                In the midst of crazy traffic, exciting firsts, and unrelenting hope, know that I carry you with me in it all. Without your support, I would not be listening to the laughter of my wonderful apartment mate right now. Thank you.

                Sincerely,

   Alice

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