Old But New Things and New But Old Places.

This is how I buy my milk. In a box. Refrigerate after opening. Good with cereal and for making pancakes, not so good to just drink a glass of milk. Oh Kemps, where are you when I need you???

In the process of going through all the stuff in my small house/apartment, I found these two totally awesome small bags. They just need to be cleaned up a little and put to good use. Unfortunately mold is everywhere. On things that have been sitting in a box for a year like these, but also on things like my shoes which have been sitting by the door for 2 days. I hate you monsoon. On the bright side, the sun is out a lot today! I think I'll go for a walk to the coffee shop to write in my journal and prepare to go home.

I also found these totally awesome, huge, full-of-bells Indian earrings! This is actually the first time I've EVER worn a pair of dangling earrings, so you're witnessing a great event in my life. I thought of a way to wear them with my plugs even! Score. I may have to start purchasing more Indian earrings because they're so beautiful.

Here's a picture of how they change the lightbulbs in my Coffee Day that I go to all the time. It's a guy standing on a chair which is just on top of a table. That's safety at its best. Oh! Did I ever tell you about the time a few students and staff were cleaning out the water tank, standing in about a foot of water, and some live wires fell into the water? Good, safe times in India always. There isn't a month that goes buy I don't get a little electrical shock by turning on a switch somewhere. It's quite terrifying actually. 

I am soon going home, just eight days to go! I'll be arriving in Minneapolis on the 17th and seriously cannot wait to eat the good food, watch the movies I haven't seen, catch up with my family, wear shorts again, and go swimming like every day! I can finally get a tan at home in Minnesota. You'd think I'd be tan after living in India for so long, but having to always wear long pants and T-shirts does not help when one wishes for golden brown skin. I found the most amazing jacket/shirt the other day. It is incredibly colorful and has animals printed all over it. So awesome. This is me in my "Korean" pose that my amazing friend Jae taught me a few years ago when I was in New Zealand.

And this is what I'm wearing today! These Indian bottoms are AMAZING and comfortable and I feel like everyone wants them. I see tourists wearing them all the time. They're called "harem pants" I think, but I don't like that name. Who'd want to be associated with a harem? Anyway, I'm really going to miss India when I'm home for three months, but I'll have all my Indian clothes with me to at least fill in some part of the gap.

One thing I'm looking forward to when I go home is spending time with this guy:

Meet Baby Sarah, my sweet, adorable, awesome little nephew. His name isn't really Baby Sarah, but that's what I like to call him since I found out about my sister-in-law's pregnancy via facebook and told them they had to name the baby after me whether boy or girl because of it. He's a lot bigger now I'm sure, but still adorable. We'll go on Aunty adventures together and visit my littlest brother at his new job together with Baby Sarah's older sister. Hahahhaa. What a great time I will have at home again.

I'm also going to attempt to lead a Bible Study while I'm home! Friday night is looking the best, but who really wants to go to a committed Bible Study on Friday nights? 

My fiancée did not receive a visa his second time around. This is one time I really dislike my country's way of doing things in other countries. Seriously, America, why can't you be nicer to outsiders? Those guys in the embassy just don't realize that what they do affects people's lives! We are not just an application, we're human beings. These people working in the embassy make me sick. But who am I to judge their lives? I know nothing about them. I am not perfect either and I also make mistakes and stupid decisions. Why can't the man that I love come home with me to meet my family? I just don't get it.

Anyway, I'm coming home by myself again. It will all be okay. Even in this hard, annoying situation, I still thank God how far he has brought me and Romel.

God is still good.

Visas and Servants

This is what I look like right now as I'm typing this, just so you know. You can't see it but I'm wearing a necklace from the tribe of my fiancée. A dear friend gave it to me. He is Angami (that's the tribe name!) and so I always tell people I'm also Angami, but I tell him I'm Penobscott, which is the Native American tribe my ancestors come from. Don't I look so Native American to you?

If you remember from a previous entry, I love the United States of America. But have you guys ever thought about how privileged you are to be American citizens? I have never even considered the blessing it was to have been born into a family in the United States. Life is so easy for me. Living in India has opened my eyes to how difficult it is to live in a different country, a "third world" country at that. So many Indians are trying to get visas to the US. I understand the need to be strict and nit-picky about who they let into the country, but when it comes to my best friend and the man I'm going to marry, I get so frustrated with my country. It is SO hard to get a visa to the US guys, seriously. For me to get my 10 year (TEN YEAR!!) tourist visa to India I just had to fill out an application and mail it to Chicago with my passport and they sent me back my passport with the visa in it a few days later. 

Over here it's a different story. Fill out the application in one city, go to another city (1.5 hours away) and pay the fee, come back to the first city to make the interview appointment, go back to another city (still 1.5 hours away) and turn in the application, go back to the first city and then wait a few days for your interview and go to Mumbai (three hours away) to have the interview where there's a 99% chance you will be denied your visa.

SO, my dearest fiancée is going in tomorrow morning which is Monday night for you Americans. He is going for his second visa interview this time with new letters and pictures and also a letter from our dear and beloved Senator who just so happens to be this guy:

Al Franken is awesome. My littlest brother and I shook his hand once in a parade in our hometown and we did not wash our hands for like an hour afterward.

Please pray for my fiancée: peace, calm, and wisdom of what to say to the interviewer, and also pray for the interviewer to have a soft heart and believe without a doubt that Romel's intention is not to immigrate to the United States.

I decided to dye the ends of my hair on a whim the other day. They're just a little blue, and I like it that way! You cannot even really tell now because it has washed out a little. You cannot find proper hair dye in India unless you want black or henna, which oddly enough turns your hair orange. So I had to use a permanent marker diluted in some water and just dipped my hair into that. It worked pretty nicely I'd say. Here's me with straight hair which lasted for one minute tops because of the moisture in the air from monsoon rains.

My favorite drink EVER!!!! It's called Thums Up and it tastes like magical fizzy masala madness! It could kick Coca-Cola's butt any day of the week, and the world knows it which is why it's only available in India. It must be contained. I will miss it so much when I'm home, but at least I won't drink any soda then. Thums Up or bust!

I have begun to get things organized and packed away to sit in my house and grow penicillin for three months while I'm gone. Here's a photo of some well-thought out organizing and a very old, very rusty trunk that we found in our storage room. The same room they found a cobra in before I moved in. Yikes. I am a bit terrified still to go in there sometimes because of that story, and a few months ago when I went in there I saw a GIANT SPIDER!!! I'm serious, it was huge and scary. It was black and had some white spots and yellow on it. With its legs sprawled out as usual. It was about the size of a compact disk with the legs spread out. The body was not so big, bigger than a quarter, maybe if you put two quarters next to each other, that's the body, then the legs. Spiders do not typically scare me, but this one was terrifying. Needless to say, I hate that back room, and won't go in there if I don't have to.

This is an outfit I wore the other day. I was just trying to think of other ways to wear kurtas. I love Indian tops, but they're so long and have slits up the side and so you pretty much can only wear them over jeans, leggings, or punjab pants. You cannot wear them with nylons or tights because of the side slits. They go up past your hip sometimes and then people would totally see your undies. One mistake I think Indian women make is they wear white leggings with them a lot. Or nude color leggings. You have to avert your eyes when that happens, especially if they're standing to the side.

And this is just a picture of the hair I used to have and adore. I long to cut it like this again, but my fiancée would have a cow. Literally. But a girl can dream, right?

I hope everyone had a great weekend! I sure did. On Saturday we had General Clean-Up which means all staff and students get together and clean the entire campus for four hours. It's much needed and only happens once a quarter. It's always dreaded, but then when the day comes and goes you always look back on it with fond memories and you totally had tons of fun cleaning mold off the walls and scrubbing toilets with others. The main topic of conversation this past clean up on Saturday however was, "Where are the leaders and staff who live off base?" because there were just a few staff who live off campus there to help. It is also quite ironic I think because it was just one day after a staff meeting where it was stressed that the leaders were here to serve the campus yet most of them did not come. It's a funny word, "serve." We throw it around so easily as Christians yet I don't think we fully understand the meaning of the word. When I hear "servant" I think of something completely different than when I hear "serve." You can serve the church. You can serve a term in office. You can serve dinner. You can serve a prison sentence. You can serve a subpoena. You can serve someone by beating them at something (a.k.a. "You got served!")

So in all actuality to serve someone or be a servant has many different meanings, but what does it mean to us as Christians today? How can we "wash the feet" of others? How can we be a servant in this world no one seems to want help anymore?

Find Me Somebody To Love.

I have decided to put more pictures in my blog, that makes it more interesting, right?

Today the sun actually came out for like 30 seconds and so I took this picture, only it does not look like the sun is out.



I'll admit that although monsoon is stupid and annoying, it sure makes everything look green and beautiful:


Here's an old van that I walk past every time I go to the Coffee Day and I just want to jump inside and get my picture taken like some sort of fashion model!



Here's a tour of my home because I think it's about time you guys see where I live even if it is somewhat of a mess right now. I'm a little late in doing this, and I apologize for that.


















So there you have it! There's a virtual photo tour of my home.

These next two weeks I have nothing to do. All schools I was staffing are over and so I am suddenly in possession of so much time! What have I been doing with this time? Cleaning my house, re-organizing things before I leave, and searching the internet for inspiration. I found a few websites full of awesome things I can do myself to decorate my home or wear as clothing or whatnot. I also found a few fashion blogs that I really enjoy looking at and reading, one which belongs to a fifteen year old girl who is totally awesome. Yes, I wish I was as cool as a fifteen year old girl.

Needless to say, I've been greatly inspired to start a new blog or at least make this one more fun which means including more pictures of my every day life, which sometimes includes THIS:



Yeah, I see elephants walk down the street on my way to the market sometimes, so what?

Also, this is a common occurrance: mispelled words.



This is totally a sign around campus that I have not had the heart to tell they spelled "spoons" wrong.

And so, in relation to the fifteen year old fashion forward blogger, I will also post a picture of my outfit today.




Ray Ban glasses, Beatles' T-shirt from Kohls, trousers from Anthropologie (not sure the brand as I'm wearing them and can't check now cause we're watching a movie), and shoes are of course converse.

And so there you have it, a day in the life of Sarah including tour of my house and what I'm wearing today. I hope you enjoyed the new turn my blog has taken. God bless and good night.

Hijras: India's Terror Towards all Men

You won't find the definition for this "hijra" in the dictionary. I'm not talking about Muhammad's departure from Mecca to Medina in AD 622 which is what you WILL find in the dictionary under "Hijra."

There are a certain group of people all over India they like to call Hijras. This is not the "politically correct" term for these people, and I'm not sure what the correct one would be at this moment in time.

These people are feared among all men in India. Why are they feared? I will tell you why. A Hijra is someone who was originally a man or male if you may. However, they now live their lives dressed in women's clothes and going around asking for money. No, not asking for money, but demanding it! I don't know how they have this kind of power over people here. They remind me of drag queens, except not as flamboyant. I mean they're basically eunuchs who dress in women's clothes. In India that means saris and salwaar kameez, with gold earrings and bangles.

Beggars come on trains and sing or sweep or simply beg for money. They stand on the streets and ask for food and money, but beggars NEVER go into stores because they are not allowed and they know they're not allowed. Hijras are different. They are not beggars because they don't beg for money, they almost demand it. They walk into stores, go straight to the register and get their money and leave, moving onto the next stores. They come on the trains and just clap their hands and go up to the men and the men give them money. Why do they do that? Because the men in India are terrified of the hijras. Hijras are aggressive and they only bother men. They don't even talk to the women really or try to get money from women, but only the men. It's fun to watch all the men shifting in their seats with looks of fear on their faces and distress in their eyes when a batch of hijras enter the train. They touch the men and flirt with them and hit them. Some men just give them money, others try to ignore them and sit still with clenched teeth looking at the floor praying to their god that they'll leave.

But I love the hijras. I absolutely love them. I get so excited when they come on the train or if I see them in the market. I think one reason I love them is because they scare the men. Some Indian men can be really annoying (no offense to anyone), especially to a white woman. They will try their best to act or speak macho and cool if they want to impress you OR they will try to take pictures of you unknowingly with their cell phones OR they will whistle and yell at you from their motorcycles or car windows. So to see them cower with fear as soon as a man dressed as a woman gets onto the train brings me a little joy. To see men who think they're so manly be afraid of a man who just wants to be a woman is funny to me. The other reason I love them is because they never hurt women or take money from women that I am aware of, and they remind me of gay men and I love gay men.

Just the other day I was on the local train going to Pune and about halfway through the ride at one station about four hijras got on the train and started taking money from the men. As they walked past me I leaned over to my student and told her that I loved hijras. About ten minutes later the hijras came back past me and my friend and they stopped and looked at me and started asking me what my name was. I told them "Sarah" and they said their names and then I thought they would try to get money from me, but they just continued asking me questions like where I am from, where I am going on the train, and also said that I was very beautiful and if I wore gold, dangling earrings it would fit me perfectly. They were so sweet to me and when I told one I was just going to Pune they were so excited! They shook my hand and said good-bye and got off the train as it had stopped at another station. One of them I met was so young, I'll bet "she" was about 16 years old. I almost want to learn Hindi JUST so that I can hang out with these eunuchs. I really would love to be their friend.

As soon as they left these two school boys, who were maybe 16-17 years old, sitting in front of me started mocking them and laughing, and all I could think is, "wow, you guys are so great! You act like little cowards when they are on the train but as soon as they get off you make fun of them. Real nice, little jerks." I just don't get it.

Many years ago if anyone had a child, they would have to pay a hijra to come and bless the child. They believed if the hijras did not bless their child then their child would be cursed. I don't think they do that so much anymore, but still somehow, hijras have this power within the country. They can go anywhere they want and everyone gives them money mostly because they are scared of them I think. I am not sure exactly why all this takes place, but I hope to learn more about them.

I really do love these people. If you remember, pray for the cross-dressing eunuchs of India, that they would know love and live love, and that the people of India would love them as well.

Caution: This post contains the F-bomb.

I love my country. My country being "America." I actually hate when people call it "America" because that could mean anywhere in North or South America if you want to get technical. Why should the United States of America absorb all of the Americas by being called "America?"

Anyway, I love the United States of America. I might disagree with some things about my country. I might even criticize some ways it is run or some people in government office or our entertainment and media empire, etc. BUT, I cannot stand when other people criticize my country who are not from my country. When someone criticizes "America" suddenly this overwhelming sense of pride and patriotism for my country wells up inside of me and it just about comes out as I hold myself back from punching this person in the neck for dissing my nation. I have never, ever experienced this happening in India until yesterday...

I was minding my own business; I was even wearing a culturally sensitive, traditional Indian outfit that most Indian women wear called a Salwaar Kameez (google it, you'll see). I was walking to a shop that I frequently go to at least twice a week. I know the shop owner, he knows what I want as he sees me approaching. SO, I was walking into this shop and a man was standing outside the shop swaying a little as he stood there and therefore was noticeably drunk. As I walked into the shop he yells out to me, "FUCK AMERICA!" I was actually quite surprised by the outburst because USUALLY Indian men yell at me, but it's more like, "Hello!!" "How are you??" "From which country are you???" "Welcome to India!" Things of that sort. This guy obviously did not like the United States of America. I simply ignored him, but the entire time I was in the shop he was shouting things like that at me. "I hate America!" "Nine Eleven something something..." "mumble mumble, America, Mumble."

I was upset because first of all, he actually has no idea that I am an American citizen. I could be British, Irish, Australian, Norwegian, Italian, Canadian even! I could be from any of those places. Heck, I could be from South Africa! Of all the places white people hail from, America does not have the majority. In that case I would not have cared at all that he was shouting these things and would have simply laughed at him for the misidentification of my home country. But the thing is I AM AMERICAN and it took every fiber in my being to not run up to him and punch him in his drunk face. I could have taken him. I bet he has never even been to "America" and I bet that he has some dumb reason for hating "America." All I wanted to do was go up to him and say, "Excuse me? I am living in YOUR country, and I am wearing YOUR traditional clothes, I am just buying milk, yogurt, and cereal, I am doing nothing to upset YOU. I did not come to YOUR country to say horrible things about how different it is, or that I'm so glad Mumbai was attacked in 2008 and I am glad it happened again just last week." Oh man, I was so upset. Only one other time in my life was I that upset about something someone said, only that time it was about Jesus, and this time it was about "America."

Usually Indians love America and love the people from America. I have never met an Indian-to-date that hated the United States. Just going to the US Embassy last week and seeing the line for US visa applicants winding around the building shows how much Indians love the US. Just going to the United States you will see Indian people EVERYWHERE!

I don't know where this guy came from or why he was saying those things, and as I walked away from his mumblings and laughing because I did not ever respond to him, I prayed for him. As difficult as it was, I prayed for him. I guess you could say I even loved him by not spazzing out on him and by not knocking him out as I left the store. I have found that it is so very easy to pray for my enemies and to say that I love my enemies when I never have to face them. Like right after the World Trade Center incident I prayed for those terrorists, I even felt compassion for them, but I never had to ever meet them. I never had to see or hear their personal hatred for my country. When it comes to actually meeting people face-to-face who are my enemy or my Jesus' enemy or my country's enemy, it is really hard to have compassion for them. It is really hard to pray for them. There is so much hate in our world, and I am so thankful that I don't have to see it very often right in my face, because I think I would live a very different life full of anger and hate, the very things I would be angry and hateful towards.

I don't know how God does it.

Garbage.

It's everywhere. The streets are bordered with a line of paper, plastic, and other disregarded items no longer seen as valuable. The litter that is spread across this country is outrageous. I constantly see people throw things out car or bus windows. I see people throwing wrappers and empty bottles out of trains as they are traveling. Small children do it, old uncles do it, even Christians do it. I thought at least I'd see the Christian Indian people taking care of this planet, their beautiful country.

This country that is full of jungle hills and roaring waterfalls. The most beautiful flowers I have ever seen grow along roads, houses, and in the wild. There are colorful lizards, flashy birds, and handsome black-faced monkeys roaming the land of this country. Not to mention ancient elephants and ferociously beautiful tigers. Yet in all corners and crevices of the cities and jungles of this country there is garbage. There are street dogs that can be terrifying but are always annoying and scavenging the garbage for tidbits of food someone may have thrown out. The cows that also roam the streets eat the garbage, I cannot imagine that is a very good diet for them, let alone good for the people who eventually may eat those cows like the Muslims and Christians who eat beef.

It is a very difficult thing for me to see littering everywhere I turn. You think sometimes that if you ignore it it's okay, but you can't. There is also so much of it that one person could not possibly make a difference by picking up some garbage here or there (not to mention it's dangerous). I remember sometimes at home while going for a walk or a run I'd make a vow to pick up any trash I see during my run. I would end up only finding 2-3 things maybe. But if I did that here I would need an entire dumpster, and that is no exaggeration. If I tried to pick up all the trash on my 7 minute walk from my house to Cafe Coffee Day I would need at least one entire dumpster. I mean those big square ones that are behind restaurants and at apartment complexes.

My life is full of a lot of garbage. Small, small things here and there thrown into the landscape of my life. Small things that are beginning to pile up and smell and make my life something ugly. I cannot just throw it out because I don't want it to cause anyone else ugliness or pain or frustration. Just as others' garbage in India causes me pain and frustration. But I must dispose of my garbage in the correct way. The way that will guarantee it won't come back and it won't cause others to stumble. I must give it away to the one person who welcomes my trash because it not only humbles me, but frees me to see more of the beauty that He has created my life to be. Garbage is not always garbage at first. It's a delicious bag of chips, or an awesome new CD we've been waiting for. It is a dress we simply cannot live without or a pair of shoes that are not only hot but in a color everyone else wishes they had! It's that new cell phone or iPod that was the latest and greatest when you got it! But after time, and always after some time, they get old, they become useless, they become outdated and they become garbage. And now I'm left with all this piled up trash that must be removed and re-organized. Some of it is still good and has just been used for the wrong purpose and therefore rendered useless. I must clean out my heart, my head, and my house. Remove the things that make life more difficult where it does not need to be difficult. Cleaning in itself is not easy and can be frustrating, but it needs to be done. No one should ever say that following Jesus will make my life shiny, clean, and easy, because my life is far from that, and so was His.

I must get going and start the cleaning process and pack it all up and give it to Him because he cares for me. He will fill my soon empty spaces with things that I actually need and will help me grow. Things that will be challenging, but good. Things that won't be easy, but needed. Things I might downright dislike, but necessary. And I look forward to it! I just finished deep-cleaning my kitchen, and let me tell you it wasn't fun, easy, or exciting, but now that I'm done it looks so awesome and the ants' numbers have fallen considerably! I haven't seen a cockroach in weeks! It's all worth it in the end.

and I am throwing all my thoughts away
and I'm destroying every bet I've made
and I am joining all my thoughts to you
and I'm preparing every part for you

It's been One Week since you looked at me.

Dearest friends and followers of my blog (and family members) I am here to happily announce that we are in the final week of the SBS! That means that on this upcoming Friday evening we will have our graduation ceremony and go out to a nice hotel to eat delicious dinner and also dress up in our fancy outfits and take lots of fun pictures and laugh about the stupid things we've done over the past nine months. I cannot believe it has come up so fast! It has already been over one year since I arrived here with my new two year commitment which has, as you all know, turned into a lifetime commitment pretty much in my getting engaged to an Indian man. A very handsome Indian man at that!

As this school is coming to a close I am getting prepared (very slowly) for Titus Project coming up on the 11th of July. If you remember, I came and did Titus Project last July and spent three weeks as a student learning how to teach and then 5 weeks on an outreach to South India teaching others how to study the Bible inductively and helping them understand the big picture of the entire Bible. Now Titus Project is coming up again, and since I already completed it, I will be staffing it! This means that two more teachings are in store for me in the coming month. The two classes I will be teaching the students are How to Present Your Lecture and Learning Styles. Everyone learns in different ways and we must cater to all audiences in our lectures and sermons. Visual, auditory, kinesthetic, creativity, math/logic, etc. Also, the students will have to prepare and present 4 different teachings during the three week training time and I will have the joyous opportunity to listen to them teach and evaluate them! So here I am, I started out as a student, ended up a teacher of students, and now I will be a teacher of teachers! But I must remember that I always remain a student. Plus, in Matthew 23 Jesus clearly tells the Pharisees that they have but one Teacher and one Leader, who is Christ and they should not lift themselves up as leader or teacher. Of course I am a teacher (we all are) but I am not THE Teacher, and I would have no voice if it weren't for the Teacher. It is he who teaches through me, like I could possibly teach anything without him!

Also, after this momentous week, my dearest housemate, Franziska will be leaving me and going back to Norway. It has been too good to be true living with her for the past 9 months. She came in at the right moment and is leaving at the right moment (according to God, not to me) and I am sad to see her go. She has quickly become a friend, sister, and mentor in my life. My home has been an oasis in this desert of missions in a strange culture mostly because she was in it. My house will not be the same without her and neither will my heart. But she will shine and grow and blossom where she is going, and I will still be a part of her life and she will still be a part of mine. It's just sad we won't have our Saturday morning breakfasts anymore, or our late night tea talks, or our PP times (power prayers). But the end of one season is only the beginning of another. I'll miss her terribly, but that's okay 'cause she'll be back, if not for the next DTS then for my wedding! Ha ha ha ha ha.



That is myself and Franziska. I will definitely do the ugly cry when she leaves. Who says I haven't already?

And now to end with some observations of cultural differences:

1. After seeing a commercial here for mango juice: I don't understand how mango juice can quench your undying thirst on a hot Indian Summer day. It's like being so hot and sweaty and then suddenly thinking, "I just need a nice glass of cold milk and I'll feel better." No, you don't. Like Ron Burgundy said, "It's so hot! Milk was a bad choice." in the same way, Mazaa (mango juice) is a bad choice when you're hot and want some relief.

2. I am not sure if [most] Indian men even know what deodorant is.

3. Motorcycles don't need to go into storage when it starts pouring rain! All you need is a nice rain-jacket and pants combo and you're set to ride that bike all day long! Seriously men, Indians drive motorcycles even during monsoon, and it literally pours rain all day long for days.

4. You're a family of four? You don't need a car, motorcycles also double as a minivan for growing families. One time I saw five boys on one motorcycle. They also transport ladders and gas cylinders on motorcycles. It's quite amazing. People in America do not know what driving is (or packing), but if there's one thing Americans do know and are quite good at: safety.

5. I think the most difficult thing about living in India and working with an organization here is realizing that Indian people do not see "time" the way Westerners see it. They do not plan anything at all, and everything starts late, and it drives me crazy most of the time. I'm trying to work on my attitude in this area, I mean I can't change hundreds of years of their culture, but it's hard. As an American, every second counts and if something takes longer than it has to I get frustrated. "Time is money" has been pounded into my brain, and now I'm in a place where time seems to not even exist. I wish I could get used to it, but I always end up feeling offended that my time set aside for someone else is not seen as important as I think it is.

6. Food is so cheap! If it's in season and native to India. Apples are dang expensive here, but mangoes are SO cheap right now! One dozen bananas = 44 cents. A dozen eggs is 79 cents. 1 lb. tomato, 1 lb. onion, 1 lb. green pepper altogether is the same as $1.77 (approximately). These are all reasons why even helping me out $5.00 a month pays for half my monthly groceries! $10.00 a month is my electricity bill. If six people give $20 a month that covers my rent! You do the math.