Today, Monday, August 10, was the first day of our last retreat.  We are in this city of 8 million souls where we are meeting with 52 pastors and their families.  Among those 52 men are 12 of the fellows I taught two years ago.

It was a special time of reunion with these men.  One of them, the guy who’d bought me the belt and carried my backpack from pillar to post, had married within the last couple of months.  The trainer, a 26 year-old, had also wed.

These marriages, as are most in this country, were arranged.  In the case of the younger man, his wife’s uncle had spoken with his parents.  In the case of the older, the woman’s parents had spoken with his.

Sometimes, but not often, marriages are “love marriages.”

I asked these guys if they loved their new wives.  It was obvious to me that the concept had not taken deep root – yet.  But, they did say, “Yes.”

Their brides were shy, beautiful ladies.

There are three sisters here who are not shy, and who are also quite pretty.  They’re about 8, 12, and 13 years old.  The oldest one, Sneha, knows five languages, speaking English beautifully.  Without hesitation, she and her two sisters sang for us.

As in both of the other locations, there are quite a few babies – all of them beautiful.  Luana and I can get our “aggi” and “thatha” fixes quite easily.  “Thatha,” pronounced “tata” almost even sounds like “papa.”

We have three more days with these folks before heading northwest out of the country.  We plan to make the most of them.