Familiar Faces

Here in Lome, Togo, the weather mimics that of a New Orleans summer: morning is June, noon feels like July, and mid-afternoon is the mind-melting, hallucination-inducing, detour-as-far-as-necessary-to-keep-to-the-shade, sweltering heat of August. The familiar climate, combined with the news of great performances at the 2010 JazzFest makes me makes me nostalgic for New Orleans. I love being where I am, but some of the things and places and people I love so dearly seem so far away.

Although we travel to South America with regularity, we have friends there. We have people who we regard as family. Home doesn’t seem quite as distant when there are familiar faces and voices. Our time in Colombia usually has some length; we settle in for a while. We get the scoop on the latest gossip, and we continue conversations started the day before. Long distance travel hasn’t these luxuries. Part of the magical experience is consistently being on the move, seeing and learning and experiencing so much in a short(ish) period of time. But with this mode comes an inability to connect on a deeper level, to delve deeper into the personalities of the people you meet, to grasp a larger, deeper concept of the place you are visiting. Because, after all, you are A Visitor. A lucky one, and hopefully a grateful one, but a Visitor just the same.

It seems to have been around the four-month travel mark that I began seeing people I knew out in the big wild world. Well, people who looked like people I know: a look-alike T.S. in India driving us through Mumbai; a man who was assuredly Kermit Ruffin’s brother (same big smile and dapper hat); a laugh that made me whip around, expecting to see Becky, her head thrown back in giggles. Faces and expressions and shapes and tonalities of voice lurch me from where I am, to the life we have left behind (albeit briefly in the grand scheme of things).

We spent one night in Aneho, Togo, close to the beach. At our hotel was a dog that must have been the sister of my grandmother’s dog, “Got-to.” Maybe a little big sweeter, a bit older, slightly lazier, but still the same darn dog.

Exploring our hotel options in Accra last week, we popped into the “Royal Hotel” for a peek. If my eyes had been closed, I would have sworn on my life that we had walked into my grandmother’s bungalow in Eliot, Maine. My footsteps resounded in the same way on the thinly carpeted floor, the air was heavy with the odor of age and books and mothballs, and the room had a slight salty tang that had seeped into the walls over time.

A dog in the night sounds like Nutter, and I grumble through my dreams for her to hush up.

Someone in our current hotel, Hotel Patience, wears perfume that smells of Tamar. I’m not sure if it is my aunt of childhood, or if she still wears the same scent. But I find myself disappointed when I walk into the lobby and she isn’t there.

Who will be our first, true, familiar face. Will it not be until our visit with Aunt Nancy and Uncle Nat in Brittany? Or perhaps Melissa in Turkey? Where in the world is Peter? Chris, don’t tease, will we see you in Morocco? And that crazy travelin’ Robin, always in a new corner of the globe…come to our corner! Where are your familiar faces? I see you all everywhere, but it turns out not to really be you.

There are reminders of you everywhere. I see you; I hear you; I smell you; I miss you. You are never as far away as our National Geographic world map seems to indicate.

Halfway from home, halfway ‘till we are back again.

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The Chauhan Family and Civil Rights

We are always thankful for balance that friends give us. We share joys, our sadness, our hopes. We share our common inspirations and our values. Because of friends we have the ability to change our lives, our work, our world. We cannot know exactly what brings us together except good fortune and ancestors.

My friend Sara Chauhan, I have known since I was eighteen years old. We met at Loyola University in New Orleans. We have many memories together and much in common. But, here in her ancestral home of Jabalpur, I have learned so much more about our shared family histories. And, again, I learn to not question what brings people together, to not wonder how we learn to be friends with one another.

Our grandparents would have been fast friends also.

Sara’s grandmother is memorialized by a lovely statue outside of the government center here in Jabalpur. She is known across India for her revolutionary poetry which she wrote during her work for the Congress Party - the party of Ghandi and Nehru which gained India‘s independence from England in 1947.

When we visited the park with Grandma Chauhan’s statue, workers were enjoying lunch and tea under shady groves. A cow chewed his cud peacefully in the driveway. Flowers were in bloom. There was peace.

The Congress Party in India, which Grandma Chauhan belonged to, was founded by an A.O. Hume, (surely some connection with my own Hume ancestors who lived in Bombay (Mumbai) for nearly 100 years - three generations!). When Ba & Bapu Ghandi visited Jabalpur, Grandma Chauhan hosted them.

When great-grandfathers Hume raised human rights issues in India, they were starting with backgrounds in abolitionist human rights campaigns of the middle nineteenth century in the United States. The deserved rights for Indians were very closely related to the struggles for freedom of African slaves working in the Americas. The success Revs Hume had in Bombay fighting for rights of people without castes (‘untouchables’ or dahlits), were directly tied to corresponding human rights work of the USA.

So, our ancestors were influenced by similar world events. The work of early human rights efforts, (abolitionists in the USA - anti-British revolutionaries on India), influenced my grandfather in India in the 1840’s, Sara Chauhan’s grandmother in the 1920’s, my grandfather Shroyer in the 1930’s, my own parents in the 1960’s. These triumphant human endeavors shapes our lives and future of our world today.

When my father was younger than I, his grandmother was once presented with her morning paper. The front page lead article cut was out. As she later discovered, my Aunt Ines had cut out the photo of my father being clubbed by a police officer in Houston, Texas. Working on what you believe and changing the world does not always happen without a few extra whacks! But, my father’s Grandmother Shroyer knew that the family values raised up in her grandson were strong and supported him. She was proud of him. My father practiced non-violent protest in the Civil Rights movement which was influenced by Ghandi.

I think of Sara, many friends and family, often. As they all know about me, I am always concocting ways to spend more time together, to find more common paths, and to combine our work. Sara Chauhan has always been this type of friend. She allows her friends to share her confidence in themselves. She allows us to dream. She reminds us that we are supposed to she and challenge our world beliefs. She reminds us of the importance of work, responsibility, and dignity.

We had the same experience of friendship with Sara’s nephew Ishan Chauhan. Ishan is 12 years old. He lives in Jabalpur. But, he visit’s a Shriners facility in the United States once per year for several months. Ishan was good enough to go with us to Kanha National Park. Kanha is a magical jungle where one of our recent heroes from The Snow Leopard, George Schaller, the celebrated biologist, researched tigers and was the residence and inspiration for Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book. We had such a great time with Ishan. He is a new BFF (Best Friend Forever) - translator, navigator, negotiator, and gentleman - at 12!

Traveling with Ishan reminded me of early journeys in my life: hitchhiking the USA with my father and as a young man, childhood in the woods of my grandparents in Texas and our farm house in Mississippi, hiking the Rocky Mountains and the Brooks Range. Ishan helped me appreciate many roles of friends. It is important for me to remember who has come before that make me who I am. Friends remind me who my base is, who has my back, who my friends are - Ishan Chauhan, at 12, has all these great qualities.

Luckily, family is a certain base in my life too. Looking back over my own family history, my grandfather Shroyer’s work in human rights in East Texas, my great grandfathers Humes’ mutual work in India, my grandmother Freeman’s passion for human rights into her late 80’s; it is no surprise to me that I am so interested in the world and taking stewardship for it. More important, it is so right to know from where I am now, how pleased my ancestors are with their good efforts shining onto me.

Even far away, friends give such support. Brittany and I are incredibly lucky to be on our round-the-world ‘honeyserviceyear.’ We are inspired everyday to learn, share, exchange. We are that much luckier to be following in the steps of our forbearers and to have to kind and generous support of family and friends.

I often reference ideas which change my world view while traveling. One of these is ‘Six-Degrees of Separation.’ You are never more than six degrees separated form any person in this world. It is true. Whether it is the Chauhans in India or my friends back home, we are all just degrees removed from presidents of nations and presidents of corporations, from Yak herders of the Mongolian steppes to goat herders at the furthest reach of the Andes.

You are too.

How we shape, change, and influence a better world helps us all realize wondrous connectivity. Awareness of our habitation in the world makes for living better, fuller days!

All my adult life I have remembered famous thoughts of Aristotle on Friendship. Aristotle believed in keeping a happy mean in all that we do. He said to not live life with too much or too little of anything: Not to be too drunk or straight, neither too happy nor too sad. Aristotle said that we should only have as many enemies as we have friends. While the statement may sound crude, I believe in its truth.

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Thailand is Booming with Tourism

I can say with certainty that I already love Thailand. Calm, friendly, honest people. A land of Buddhism that entices you quickly with its sweet flavors, fragrance of flowers, polite and gentle landscapes. It is entirely nonabrasive (we have stuck mostly away from the tourist path - 'walking streets,' the seedy brothel lore, the tired 'Cancun' and Disneyesque resort beaches to the south). Anyone with imagination or a taste for its rich history can easily see a charmed past and feel in its recent history, echoes. This is not a blog about that Thailand. This is what I wrote spontaneously on a slow diesel trawler as we crawled along the coast back to the furthest edge we could find away from Thai 'civilization.' After nearly two weeks on islands and in serene mangrove estuarine enclaves along the Thai Cambodian border here it is what I wrote. If it is for anyone, it is for the thoughtful and compassioned traveler. And, it is for the governments of Thailand, her neighbors, and the world community that flocks here. It is not meant as unfriendly. It is meant as a reminder to all of us who can ignore what role we play in the way the world develops.

It goes like this...


What would fix our world: By example from Thailand

Life has only ever taken me to moments.
In clarity in Evolutions.
I would see in a place all I loved and all at once.
Nothing like this ever came to me in Thailand.
Here, a debate with self, of new purpose, new pursuits.
China, India, Louisiana, ancestry vastly more polluted
These all ring with Life for me. Poor Thailand.
I am understanding very little here.
It sticks to my soul like a skin's lesion.

Thus, I reflect on other places, other times.
A first epiphany in Omaha, Nebraska. I am 17.
A urchin's port in Panama's Casco Viejo. I am 29.
Acrid sulfurs of country roads back home.
Distances of time. Memories held still.
Photographic emotional stillness.
Friends and acquaintances long gone.
Distances grown to revolutions.

Thailand, as ill as the planet we are healing.
Now, but now, but NOW, must remain sick, bedridden.
Venezuela, USA, The Indian Res
And all the old Colonies hovering below remark for it.
Darkness, falsely lit, in phantom shallows. A putritude.
Holding good which was evil disguised as good without evil.

A lost time. Dead monks littering roads between Buddhist countries.
Greeds, Pollutions, Degraded, Degrading.
Falsity, lacklusterness, undefined ruination with no common purpose.
Results of organized religion - Capital wealth.
King's of Ancient Nations trading arms and lands and death.
Kunckledusters who let ruin the golden gates.
What would fix our world? By example from Thailand...
"Kill the Buddha!"

....

To our lovely friends and all her kind people, forgive a wit in wrath.

This blog is going to be followed by a short series of positive inspirations about eco tourism, public environmental art, service projects that are self-starters (and work), green development lessons, new friendships and the like. But, I have to get this out there to get started on the rest.

We have two days until Calcutta, India. What can await us there?

Wrapping up Thailand, we have been enjoying the long New Year's celebrations, visiting craft, music, and food bazaars and festivals and wishing we had many of our good friends and family along to enjoy this place and make sense of what is happening here so that we should all become better stewards of the world our children's children and their children's children might one day inherit.

Thailand is Booming with Tourism. What can we learn from their losses and their fate? (A sad and deadly sickness of selfishness and mad advantages)

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Welcome to our world...can't wait to see yours!

In November, 2009, we embark on a service tour of the world. We will combine our honeymoon with a year of service, lending our skills, enthusiasm, talents, and passions to the places and people we visit.

Our current world tour includes China (specifically Changsha), India, Africa, and a brief stay in Europe. We look forward to experiencing new ideas and cultures, and connecting with family, and both old and new friends.

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.” - Robert Louis Stevenson

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