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In a country of a culture, where
male supremacy is predominate, for women to have any credibility is a challenge! From that time
onwards, although I am a woman, there was an OPEN DOOR for me in my adopted land of
INDIA
Pray for a water buffalo? When Scripture says, "Lay hands on the sick and they
shall recover." Would that include a sick buffalo?
My partner, Almeda, and I had been jolted and jostled in two different busses in order to get
there. We felt dirty and grimy when we finally arrived, but we were happy to get off that rough,
dusty, overcrowded bus.
Destination was Nootalapadu, a small hamlet in a remote farming area in Andhra Pradesh State in
South India. Our guide and interpreter was the late Mr. D. Stephen whom we had met earlier while
he was on a visit in the State of Kerala in the South. “Come up to Andhra Pradesh” he pleaded
with us. “’Come up and teach the few village pastors. They are poor, only semi-literate and
untrained in the Scriptures, yet they ARE struggling to preach the gospel amidst the Hindu
farmers of their region. In compliance with Stephen’s request we had come to hold a teaching
seminar with these men. We were still involved in the ministry in Kerala, but this was a
short-term excursion to answer Mr. Steven’s pleas.
Upon our arrival in the village we were conducted to a house where we were to stay. Although I
knew the Tamil language, the Telugu language they spoke here was entirely new. The group of
women sitting on the floor of the broad open veranda stared wonderingly at us. Though we both
were dressed in Indian saris, they had never laid eyes on white strangers before. These women had
been hired to work in the cotton fields. It was harvest time for that crop. During this cotton
harvest season these workers would just camp on the veranda of the Landlord who had hired them
until the harvest was over.
Prior arrangements had been made for our stay at this particular house. One woman silently arose
and, unlocking the door of the room assigned to us, indicated by a nod that this was to be our
abode during our stay. Within, the furnishings consisted of two rope cots, a small table and a
chair or two. After setting our bags down, we were conducted across the road to another home.
Here we were introduced to the bath and toilet facilities that we would be sharing with our host
families. The Indian style bath shed was equipped with a barrel of water and a dipper. Next to
that shed there stood another enclosure in which was an Asian toilet. These toilets are set at
floor level with no seat--squatting is the method! We never saw the inside of the home of these
people. We scarcely even saw them until our last day we were there when we were invited in for a
parting prayer.
Back at our bedroom, after having eaten the rice meal that had been supplied, we strung up the
mosquito nets and settled into our cots. The cots are home made. Wooden poles as a frame, with
rope tightly stretched criss-crossed over the frame to form the bed. I am taller than the
average Indian woman, so often I would find that my feet would protrude beyond the foot of the
bed frame--as they did that night. Weary from the rough journey and heat of the day, we soon
fell asleep. In the morning I discovered that the cot I had used was about a foot shorter than
the one Almeda slept on. She is about a foot shorter than I am! I could have had a better rest
if we had compared the beds and made better choices! So we switched beds.
In one corner of that room was a huge stack of freshly picked cotton. We had not minded 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 rats 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 securely tucked in, I soon dropped back off to sleep.
Poor Almeda was horrified and did not so easily accept the circumstance. But she was brave.
On the evening of our arrival we had each been supplied with a large glass of sweet hot tea made
with plenty of milk. It was delicious. We were told that this young lady who had brought the tea,
named “Pudma,” had been delegated to supply us with tea or milk each morning and evening as long
as we were there. Next morning, however, she arrived empty handed, looking very dejected. She
knew no English and we knew no Telugu. I soon discerned what her predicament was. 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. Tea could be
brought from there if desired. Or we could well do without the tea.
Then it struck me. It is a problem for her. She has a buffalo calf needing milk. Besides,
the sale of this milk to others is a great part of her livelihood. What would she do? I began
thinking: “Maybe I should go and pray for the buffalo! Perhaps whatever ailed the beast would be
overcome”. I proceeded to her house with her. We had no words, only sign language.
There in the yard stood the huge black water buffalo, its glassy black 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 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. Some may think this is partly a psychological reaction--but I have seen good
results. (Hindus are used to worshipping before an object. So they respond to the tangible. They
find it hard to relate to abstract “faith”.)
Yet, still there is another real problem: Buffaloes 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 idea, she showed me some ground up grain she would be
feeding the animal later. She would mix the water into that meal and feed it to the beast.
“Excellent!” I agreed. But I left with more HOPE than FAITH.
We held our scheduled class with the pastors-- without any reference to the tea or buffalo
episode. In the afternoon by "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.
When our Interpreter arrived on the scene he related her story to us. On the previous milking
there had been only one-half a litre of milk. After the animal had consumed the "anointed water
feed" the yield had been EIGHT litres of milk! We all rejoiced with her. How great is the Lord.
That was the first miracle. But it is not the end of the story.
Continue on to: And Other Miracles
© Evelyn Splane
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