Publications

Discovering Trust, Sorrow and Joy During a Summer in Northeast India

In an effort to deepen the "twinning" relationship between the Wisconsin Province and the Kohima Region, scholastics R.J. Fichtinger, SJ, Luke Hansen, SJ, Joseph Simmons, SJ and Stephen Wolfe SJ lived and worked in Northeast India this summer. Fichtinger, Simmons and Wolfe served in Jesuit parishes and schools in the rural villages of Maweit, Chidimit and Dawagre, respectively, while Hansen interned with the Jesuitsponsored Legal Cell for Human Rights in Guwahati. Their immersion experience concluded with a 10-day tour of Nagaland, home to several Jesuit institutions near India’s eastern border with Myanmar.

Toward a Deeper Trust
By Joseph Simmons, SJ

"Do you trust in God?" my fellow scholastic Luke asks with a wry smile. We are snaking down the narrow mountain roads of Nagaland, returning from the remote town of Pfutsero, which is perched at 7,200 feet above sea level. Our driver dodges oncoming trucks as our SUV returns us to our Jesuit home base in the smaller city of Jakhama, about 50 miles west of the border with Myanmar.

When I set aside my fear of driving over the cliff, I marvel at the view - densely vegetated mountain ranges with thick white clouds gliding silently through their dales. Rice paddies carpet the stepped mountainsides - their annual harvest provides the staple of Northeasterners’ diet. They take rice with daal, a lentil broth, paired with some of the many local vegetables - pumpkins, cucumbers, chili peppers, gourds, okra - for most of their meals. "We are very blessed with natural resources here," remarks a prominent member of a Jesuit parish. "We do not have much money, but our people do not go hungry."Other parishioners, with wrinkles that reveal many seasons of work in the sun, smile in agreement. There is no guile, no pretense, no visible anxiety over tomorrow.

As we "take tea" with different groups of villagers, I note a peace and contented ease. Clad in light cotton shirts and pants, these rural farmers sit with forearms and legs crossed leisurely, sharing their lives with us and asking us what America is like. We laugh and smile the laughs and smiles of people who share no other common language, relying on a few translators to convey our message.

The people trust deeply that God will provide, that He will keep them close, even in death. I recall an incident from my month in Chidimit. I am sitting with Jesuits Fr. Yan and Br. Lawrence inside a bamboo hut, praying with a Catholic family over a 1-year-old who is very sick with malaria. The mood is solemn but not dour - the people sense that the child is not long for this world, they take it in stride. Oh, how they trust. I have seen sick children before - I read the villagers’ lack of anxiety as a trust that she will recuperate fully. The next morning as I am teaching an English class in the school, some children interrupt me: "Someone has died, Brother." Only then do I hear the bell outside of the church ringing half a mile away. I lose focus and stare out the window toward the hills where the child’s family lives. "What kind of trust is this that allows for...?" My thoughts trail off and I snap back to teaching.

Later that day Fr. Yan and I return to the small home to pray with the family before the funeral. The moment he finishes blessing the veiled body, women, young and old, throw themselves on the litter, wailing and sobbing. "This will go on for several hours now," Fr. Yan tells me as we make our way home. I suppose their trust in God does not wipe away the pain of losing a child, but it may provide just the solace needed to keep things in perspective.

Luke’s question lingers in my mind as we fly around blind corners. Lord, I believe; help Thou my unbelief.

Encountering the Northeast through Film
By Luke Hansen, SJ

As we traveled around Northeast India, we often remarked, "It sure feels like we’re in a movie right now." We were not in a movie at all, of course. What we experienced was very real: India’s natural landscape, its tribal people, and their joys and sorrows. Yet movies can serve as an access point into this reality. In relation to my time in India, three films stand out.

India’s urban life received broad exposure in "Slumdog Millionaire" (2008), the Academy Award-winning film that tells the story of Jamal Malik, a boy from Mumbai’s slums. I watched the film in India and thought, "Right on!" In Guwahati, people bathe in street gutters, women handwash their clothing, disabled children beg for rupees, and rickshaws and animals alike congest the streets.

We also traveled beyond Guwahati’s densely populated river valley. Nagaland is home to beautiful mountains and remote villages - reminding me of "Motorcycle Diaries" (2004), which features Che Guevara’s 1952 pilgrimage across South America. In the film, Guevara befriends landless peasants and marginalized lepers - experiences that would form his social consciousness. In Northeast India, people are burdened, in part, by widespread government corruption, ongoing ethnic conflicts, and a lack of education.

It is in this context that the Kohima Jesuits work as missionaries. The Jesuits arrived in Nagaland in 1970 to establish parishes, schools, and social service centers among the most marginalized rural groups in the region. When an institution is sufficiently developed, it is handed over to the local diocese, thereby freeing those Jesuits to respond to new needs in the region. The great faith and courage of the Kohima Jesuits, as well as the mountainous, rural landscape of Nagaland, reminds me of the classic film, "The Mission" (1986).

Discovering joy in Dawagre
By Stephen Wolfe, SJ

While in Dawagre, I loved playing with the student boarders. I taught them games from my childhood: Captain Sneak-Up, Spud, Kickball. I taught miniature golf, using a bamboo stick and some corn on the cob (I didn’t win a single hole the entire month). They loved when I would "sneak up" during their meals, tap someone on the shoulder and then dash out of sight or when I would conspicuously "sneak up" on them, using a handkerchief to "conceal" myself. Their laughing and smiling made me laugh and smile. I learned just how much joy we can find in the joy of others.

I especially took a shine to the two youngest boarders, a first-grader named Warkish and his best friend Rohit. I would always teach them the games first, and they would explain it to the others. I remember one time Warkish and Rohit received snack cakes, a twice-a-year treat. I jokingly asked Warkish if I could have it, and you could see how torn he was. After some soul-searching, he broke off half and gave it to me. Rohit immediately followed suit. I gave it back to them with a chuckle, my heart aching to see such generosity and affection.

I learned more about Warkish: his father was dead and his mother struggled with mental issues. So he relied on the Missionaries of Charity sisters and the Jesuits for financial support. The cost of tuition and boarding is about $17 a month. The day I left, I heard that the sisters might withdraw their support for Warkish. Do you know how quickly $17 can disappear in New York City? It takes only a tiny sacrifice on my part to ensure that this wonderful child receives a Jesuit education to help him overcome the obstacles he faces.

Joys and Sorrows
By R.J. Fichtinger, SJ

During my time in Maweit, I often found myself staring at peoples’ feet and imaging where they may have been and what thoughts occupied their minds. In this remote village, children as young as four sometimes walked more than five miles to get to school; the trip could take two full hours. Being with these students for one month, I gained a sense for their daily experience - a bittersweet mixture of joy and anxiety as they travel some of the roughest terrain the surrounding countryside has to offer. I’m amazed at how similarly children play across different cultures. The game of tag is universal.

I think of two girls I met who traveled for nearly a day to get help for their cerebral malaria. These girls could not walk there on their own but were carried on the backs of others who were also suffering from the disease. Driving is rarely an option, and during the rainy season, walking can be as dangerous as the diseases from which they suffer. Even upon arriving at the Sisters’ dispensary, there was a significant chance these little girls wouldn’t survive.

I think of the joys and sorrows their feet carry and how much more their feet will see in a day than I will in a lifetime.

back