Curry Hangover

I had a serious curry hangover this morning after attending a Pakistani mission’s banquet last night.

The food was incredible. Awesome food and spending the evening listening to missionaries with hearts for the Muslim world…it was a beautiful thing.

You don’t get to eat Pakistani food everyday; well, at least I don’t.

Aware of this, I piled my plate high with samosas, naan, rice and curries…

Upon coming back to the table, my friend Brinda’s fifteen year old son stared at my plate (jaw dropping) and said, “WHOA”. After a long pause he finished, “I hope my wife can eat like that someday!”

I think it was a compliment? Maybe? I shrugged my shoulders. Like I said, I don’t get to eat Pakistani food every day.

The group I sat with at my table was as spicy as the food on our plates.

My favorite was Scott. Or at least I think his name was Scott. Something with an “S”… He must have been in his late fifties and he was cracking jokes the whole night.

Brinda leaned over to her son after dinner and said in a very mom-ish slow tone, “Nick, you should introduce yourself to the table of Pakistani men behind us. Ask them where they are from in Pakistan”.

Nick replied, “What if they aren’t Pakistani mom? What if they’re from India?”

Good boy.

Scott chimed in, “Watch, they’re all from Toronto”.

Scott continued to entertain as he gave his wife fist pounds every time the speaker talked about the powerful ways God is moving in Pakistan. Some “hallelujahed”, Scott pounded. Genius.

When I asked how he met his wife, Scott replied, “E Harmony. Duh.” A statement which his wife laughed at, then quickly corrected, “We’ve actually been married 35 years.” I was loving this guy.

I also loved the people to the right of us. The unidentified Pakistani/Indian/ Toronto clan. Cynthia bet they were all New Yorkers. We were all dying to ask at this point.

Finally, ecstatic, I recognized one of the men at the table. Raj. (Raj is an Indian man I met when I moved to Portland. He has an East Indian fellowship he leads over in Beaverton).

“Raj! How are you!” I said. “I’m Abbie—we met earlier this year”.
“Oh yes,” he replied. “Let me introduce you to my friends”.

Yes.

To my surprise, one of them was from Tamil Nadu. This is where I was in India three years ago, and where I hope to return this summer.

Eppati irukkinga? (How are you?) he asked in Tamil.

Nallaa irukéan! (I’m fine) I replied.

Yes. He asked me the one question I remembered how to answer.

I just hoped he wouldn’t ask any more as my Tamil vocabulary has pretty much been whittled down to pambu! (snake!) and Nandri Yesu! (Thank you, Jesus!).

En Thamizh romba mosam (My Tamil is very bad) I told him. We laughed out loud together.

I missed India for a moment and sighed deeply.

On the way home I thought about how I have got to start practicing my Tamil.

Cynthia tried to help me the other night. We opened my book “Learn Tamil in 30 Days.” A bold promise of a title, considering the Tamil word for “lemon” has more letters in it than our English alphabet.

Near the end, there was a section called “Practical Conversations”. Perfect, we thought.

“Ok, you be the ‘foreigner’ Abbie and I’ll be the ‘tour guide’,” Cynthia said.

It was a hypothetical conversation that was “likely to take place when touring a temple”. It went like this:

Foreigner: "Athoh, Oru Yaanai Nerrkerrathae! Athu Appade Engu Canthathu?”
(Yonder. I see an elephant standing! How did it come here?)

Guide: "Athu Unnmaiyana Yaanai Alla. Athu Orae Kallel Chethukkappatta Cherrpam."
(It's not a true elephant. It is a monolithic sculpture.)

Very useful indeed. Definitely a practical conversation.

Who’s used the word “yonder” since Laura Ingalls Wilder anyway? And how many of us really know what a monolithic sculpture is?

“Learn Tamil in 30 Days”…

I think the book should have been called “Learn Tamil in 30 Years Without Breaking Down and Weeping in the Fetal Position…I Dare You”.

I guess I’m back to square one…pray a lot and keep practicing.