My Overseas Birthday

I'm much too old to go around announcing my birthday ahead of time. Plus, I had reason to believe that people at the office might make a fuss if they knew it was coming. I've already told you how terribly spoiled I am, haven't I?

Also, I had told a few people of the tradition at my office back in Ohio that required us to bring in our own birthday treats for our co-workers. That had always worked out well. So, on the way in to the office this past Wednesday, I stopped at The Grand Sweets and Snacks and picked out half a dozen each of five different Indian sweets that looked good to me.

But I had done some laundry that morning, and gone to Mary and Steve's for homemade bagels (what a birthday treat that was!), so I got in to the office quite late. It was really too close to lunch to start handing out treats, so I didn't say anything. Besides, after everyone has come back from lunch, we have tea, so I thought I'd have a little work meeting with the team, and also pass out some sweets. After that, I would take the rest to the people on the other IT teams, as well as friends in the HR department.

In the meantime, one of the guys on the team, who had taken half a day off to go with his father to the doctor, called in to say that they were still waiting and he would have to be gone the whole day. Yet another snag in my plan; I blurted out to the woman I was working with that he would miss the birthday treats I had brought in. And that was my big mistake; she gave me up!

Even my afternoon plans were not working out: the team of six never seemed to be working at their desks at the same time. Where were the three young guys on the team? Had they gone for a snack right after lunch? Even so, why weren't they back? Things were getting strange, and I was beginning to get suspicious. When Steve came by--he had been ill and not in the office much that week--the head of HR needed to talk to him privately. At that point I was convinced that something was going on, and was not too surprised when Steve told me that we were wanted down in the HR office.

Sigh. In the center of the office was a cake with the words, "Happy Birthday, Cathy Williams" and about 20 people showed up to sing a full three verses (Did you know?) of the standard birthday song. Yes, candles to blow out, too. Since my treats had not yet seen the light of day, I brought them down also, and we had a nice feast. Afterwards, very much in keeping with the Indian Christian traditions, the manager of the entire office prayed a lovely prayer for me.

So, it was a lovely day, and the fuss I tried to avoid was just arranged in less time than if I had given some warning. That evening Steve, Mary, and I went to the home of an Indian family that we've gotten to know mostly through the ministries Mary works with. The invitation had nothing to do with my birthday, but Mary hadn't been hesitant to give out that information, so there was a second chocolate birthday cake, with candles, but just one verse.I'll have no trouble remembering my overseas birthday, and it will probably always be with a chuckle. Remember those guys that disappeared from the office in the afternoon? The cake was from the whole office, but the gift they picked out was from the team of six Indians that works with us. Who do you think this is suppose to be, anyway? She just doesn't look Indian.

A Little Indian Humor

One of my Indian co-workers was telling me the other day of his intention to buy a bicycle for riding to work. He currently drives a motorcycle (referred to here as a 2-wheeler), but feels the extra exercise of a bike would do him good. I learned that it's not that simple, as you can see in the following close-as-I-can-remember account of our conversation:

Him: Status is very important to people here. When they see me on a bike, they'll think I can't afford a 2-wheeler.

Me: Back home we have bumper stickers on cars that say something like, "My other vehicle is a BMW." You could put one on your bike that says, "My other vehicle is a 2-wheeler."

Him: Yes, but then they'll think, oh, he can't afford the petrol (gas) for his 2-wheeler. I'll have to further explain on my sign, ". . . and yes, I can afford the petrol. I'm riding this for the exercise." To which they will respond, "Aha, he can't afford a membership to a health club!"


Ah, so glad we've gotten beyond such pettiness back home. ;- )

My Ghostwriter

Well, I guess I really do have to get back to posting. Apparently desperate for something to read and comment on, one of my friends has taken an account I Skype'd to him and created a blog entry for me! It's my story, and true enough. But would you have known I had significant help, if I hadn't confessed? (I don't want to risk ending my time overseas enmessed in a blog scandal, though.) Here it is, with just a couple minor edits by me:

You may remember from a previous blog post what a harrowing thing it is to cross the street here. Eventually I learned that most drivers do actually try to avoid you – except for city buses. I'm pretty much convinced that they try to run you down. (I think it's a contest, but no one will tell me what their prize is.) The other day I was crossing the main road near the office, and there happened to be a very short man beside me (you would be amazed at how many very short Indian men there are). After getting to half way, the light was still with us, but there was a bus waiting on the second side. It wasn’t moving, so I didn’t consider it too much of a threat, but the really funny thing is that the man, starting to run, looked toward me (most people on the street act as though they don't see me, and certainly don't talk to me), and said something very close to, "Run, city bus!" To see someone else actually admitting to panic over one that wasn't even really moving at the moment, just really struck me funny. Two days later, I still can't think about it without smiling. But I understood. And, yes, I ran!