Almeda and I had been jolted and jostled in two different busses to get there, but we finally arrived.

Destination was Nootalapadu, a small village in a remote farming area in Andhra Pradesh state in India. Our guide and interpreter was Mr. D Stephen. He had met us while he was on a visit to Kerala State in the South. There he pleaded with us to come up to Andhra and teach the few village pastors whom he was trying to help. They were poor, only semi-literate and struggling to preach the gospel amidst the Hindu farmers of the region. We had now come to hold a seminar with them.

Upon our arrival in the village we were conducted to a house where we were to stay. Although I knew the Tamil language, this Telugu language was entirely new to both of us. The group of women sitting on the floor of the wide, open veranda stared questioningly at us. Though we both were dressed in the Indian saree, they had never laid eyes on white strangers before.

Prior arrangements had been made for our stay here. One woman silently arose and unlocked the door of the room assigned to us. Within, were two rope cots, a small table and a chair. These were the only furnishings. After putting our bags down we were conducted across the road to another home, beside which was an Indian style bath shed, equipped with a barrel of water. Next to that stood another enclosure with an Asian toilet. These are at floor level with no seat--squatting is the method! Such were our facilities to be shared with that household. We never did see inside their house.

Back at our bedroom, after food had been supplied, we strung up the mosquito nets and settled into the cots. Weary from the journey and heat of the day, it was not long before we fell asleep. In one corner of that room was a huge stack of freshly picked cotton, filling one quarter of the space. We did not mind the cotton at all--so clean and white! That is, until---In the middle of the night, suddenly Almeda awakened and with alarm in her voice called to me, "Oh, Evelyn! There are rats running all over this place!" We discovered that they love that little brown shell that the ripe cotton has on one end. WE were the intruders of the rats' nightly banquet house! Our only protection was those flimsy mosquito nets. Making sure they were snugly tucked in, I soon dropped off to sleep. Poor Almeda was horrified and did not so easily accept the circumstance. But she is brave.

The previous evening we had been supplied with a large glass of hot tea made with plenty of milk. It was delicious. We were told that this young lady who had brought the tea, Pudma, had been delegated to supply us with tea or milk, morning and evening. But in the morning she arrived empty handed, looking very dejected. She knew no English and we, no Telugu. I soon discerned what was her predicament. I asked the question in Tamil: "No milk?" She shook her head in the affirmative. "That's no problem," I said, but she was sad. We were by no means hard done by; there was a tea shop near-by. Or we could well do without.

Then it struck me. It IS a problem for her. She has a buffalo calf needing milk. Besides the sale of this milk is a great part of her livelihood. What would she do? I began thinking: Maybe I should go and pray for the buffalo, that whatever ailed it would be overcome. I proceeded with her. We had no words only sign language.

There in the yard stood the huge black buffalo, its glassy eyes staring at me in utter terror. It had horns as long as my arms. "Oh!" I took a deep breath. "How ever can I lay hands on this great beast?" I muttered to myself. Then I recalled a practice I had seen in many times in Kerala. Pray over a glass of water and give it prayerfully to the person suffering from an ailment deep down inside. The water would convey the power of the prayer to the part in need of healing. Maybe it is partly psychological--but I have seen good results. Hindus are used to worshipping before an object. So they respond to the tangible. "But that still does not solve my problem. Buffalo do not drink water from a tumbler!"

As I pondered the dilemma, Pudma, experienced with the farm animals, came up with a more practical suggestion. Demonstrating her suggestion she showed me some "chop" she would be feeding the animal later. She would put the water in that. Excellent! I agreed. But I left with more hope than faith.

We had our scheduled class with the pastors, without any reference to the tea or buffalo episode. Later, at "tea time", along came Pudma, face aglow. In each hand she held up a large glass of steaming milk. She was bursting to tell us something, but no words came. Our Interpreter arrived on the scene and related her story to us. On the previous milking there had been only one-half a liter. After the animal had consumed the "anointed water feed" the yield had been eight liters of milk! We all rejoiced with her.

That was the first miracle. But it is not the end of the story.
Part II

© Evelyn Splane
GOSPEL OF CHRIST OUTREACH Website