Traffic in Kathmandu.
There might not be an adjective strong enough to convey the intensity that comes flying at your face when you embark on a journey across this city! You will meet every imaginable conveyance; massive trucks and buses, four door taxis, land rovers, motorcycles, scooters, rickshaws, bicycles and pedestrians, all in a mad dash to claim that next vacant piece of road. And then there are the animals. Buffalo and cattle roam freely through the craziest intersections. And, no, it's not okay if you accidentally hit one. Sometimes you move like a maniac and sometimes you just sit and turn off your engine to conserve petrol.
Yesterday as we made our way across town I giggled to myself. The smooth tones of Michael Buble's voice floated through the tiny car: "It's be-ginning to look a-lot like Christ-mas . . ." It doesn't look remotely like Christmas here. Though a few shops cater to the westerner, this city is mostly oblivious to the concept of the Christ Child, Saint Nick, jingle bells, holly boughs or Christmas trees.
We were on our way to do an American family photo shoot and then on to Christian Nepali friends for dinner. I had packed a few dozen freshly baked gingerbread men as gifts for our hosts. We weren't surprised when traffic stood still. Nor were we amazed when a beggar boy tapped on my window moments after we stopped. It happens. The boy pressed his face against the dusty glass and waved a dirty flyer. Probably a professional. He's been provided with printed material to woo the hearts of tourists. No need to contribute funds to a begging ring. But the cookies! I selected a jaunty ginger man and passed it through the window to the filthy kid who couldn't possibly appreciate it.
Or could he?
The boy accepted the cookie with interest and moved out of the traffic to enjoy his treat. I watched as he studied the shape and bit off the head. He looked a little amused at his decapitated victim. He savored the spicy sweetness, then decided which limb would go next, and next.
I was struck with how similarly kids back home eat gingerbread men. The little ones in my life get ginger guys every year - even help bake and decorate them. Still, the simple pleasure of dissecting an unsuspecting bit of sugar and spice never loses its satisfaction! And it wasn't lost on the little urchin who tasted a bit of Christmas cheer for the very first time.
The scene plays back in my mind again and again. I see the essence of the Christ Child in it. The Most High God comes as a mortal man to a world that doesn't want Him. He is served up to we unappreciative beggars as payment for our destitution, and Glory to God in the highest! It is enough! This Bread of Heaven is all sufficient to feed the human soul, no matter the race, nationality, creed or caste! He is here, among us for all time, just waiting for us to press our faces to the glass . . .
and beg.
I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.
John 6:51
L.
Laurel, this stirred my soul. What amazing thoughts! What an allegory. Thank you for sharing timeless truths out of your life in Nepal. Breathtakingly beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you sweet sister. I love you. And I love your uplifting comments!
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