It began to rain today and we remained in the office until around 3:00pm.
John was not needed. Isaac and I hopped on his motorcycle and headed off west of town.
It was a small community of Gypsies who were living close by.
Their main occupation was making clay pots.
A man demonstrated the art of making pots from the local mud. It was fascinating.
I had never witnessed the art before. Not every vessel survived. Some collapsed after a few
moments rest and lay in a pile on the ground. I thought “what a waste” but the potter merely
went to it, picked it up, pounded it into a pile of raw clay and built it over again.
There was no anger, frustration, nor bitterness just simple calm. It reminded me of the
story of the Potter and the Clay.
He made a number of vessels – each one similar, all of them unique. When he was finished
I asked him why no of them had bottoms. His response was that the bottoms would be
added the next day. Huh? Apparently, the vessel would be sufficiently hard the next day
so that the shaping could take place. The potter would turn the vessel over and with the aid
of a round stone as a mould and a hammer, the vessel would be gently pounded and stretched
so that the bottom grew until it closed the gap and became the needed shape.
He showed me a finished one with a round bottom and holes in the side. This one would be
used for incense burning in the Hindu temple. Coals would be placed inside and incense
put on top. The person carries the pot around in his hand with no feeling of heat.
Another of the same style but without the holes and with a flat bottom would be used to contain water.
Yet another was used for cooking. Each started its existence looking like the other but its
purpose changed according to the needs of the potter.
It was an excellent education and I thanked him very much. By the way the vessel would sell in the
market for 5 Rupees (15 cents). The cooking pot and accompanying clay stove would run for
30 Rupees (less than a dollar).
Next we went to the Gypsy Indian Missions Organizing Home for boys. It houses 60 boys.
A number had gone to their homes around Tamil Nadu and 38 remained. The boys were dressed
up waiting for a photographer to show up. We took advantage of the situation and sat on
the long porch and talked to them.
It was enlightening. They had many questions for me like: where are you from; why did you
come; what is it like in Canada and so on. It was delightful. Then the questions became more
pointed and personal. Do you know Christ? Give us your testimony. Can you sing us a song about Jesus?
I told the yes, told them about my life and sang “What a friend we have in Jesus”.
It was wonderful to be at the receiving end.
The school teaches grades 1 upward. It has participated in the medical camp, tooth program
and been visited by Dr Jerald. Surprisingly they had no needs when we asked them.
hat is refreshing.
We left amidst the mob of boys wanting to shake my hand. The problem is if you shake one hand
you have to be prepared to go all the way and shake them all. It was raining harder now so we
headed back to the safety of Isaac’s place.