XX - Things we lost in the fire

The birds on the backwaters at Kochi are stunning.

The horrors we have been made aware of, especially recently, from the testimony and evidence of victims of abuse, as well as the Makin report and subsequent reflections, are shocking and appalling. That the Church of England has failed, not only through the predatory behaviour of those in holy orders of all levels, but also within the institution through not passing on information, not bringing in safeguarding measures soon enough, and in some cases even colluding with and protecting perpetrators, is mortifying. It is an hour of judgement for the Church, which has been found wanting in individuals, as well as through its institutional practices. There is a fire within the Church, tearing through the structure, to burn out the opportunities for abuse to persist and those who have failed it. 

A family member once told me of an abuser who used to ferry him to football matches. This was a more trusting era – my parents mostly took me to matches but at a certain point I was getting lifts with others, and I went on tours by myself for cricket and hockey to far off places, a child among adults, from the age of 15. Nothing happened to the person in question, but I remember he found it eerie to have been within that orbit as the scandal broke. I had a similar feeling after a Bishop recently admitted five counts of assault. I had attended his parish church and been an acolyte in the 1980s and then confirmed at his church. Later I met with him at least once when considering studying theology as a teenager. 

Fishing boats and nets on the beaches of Kochi

Safeguarding, as previously mentioned, has yet to reach Indian culture. Having been involved with youthwork since I was 18 I have always been extremely conscious of being a man working with children and our instilled caution concerning child abuse. It’s hard in Britain to be at ease with children to whom you’re not related, especially as a man. There is something beautiful in seeing the ease with which people here respond to children in a natural way. Children are adored: they’re picked up, cuddled, pinched, photographed, given treats – all of which knocks you off your feet when you first arrive. It is the biggest culture shock of being in India. It’s so foreign it’s hard to know how to react at first – it feels unbelievable, invasive and confusing. But though it is alarming and then often irritating (especially the sweets), it points to the innocence of our natural reaction to children which is now in Britain entirely lost. And we are right not to trust. That is proven. But it is tragic.

A monument to Dr Ambedkar outside the laundry in Kochi. Dr Ambedkar is an undersung hero of India having written the Constitution, but also in being an outspoken critic of the caste system, in which he clashed with Gandhi. 

I’ve been reading essays by Arundhati Roy which bring out my uneasiness about India. It left me in a weird thought experiment, where I wondered if Germany of the late 1930s existed today would I visit it or refuse on principle? What would it feel like to travel around the country – would I notice anything distinct from the rest of Europe? How would I feel talking to someone from the SS, Wehrmacht or leadership and would I challenge their views, if expressed, on race or the treatment of other religions, the role of women, or class differences? How open can or should someone be when a guest of another culture? I have friends who are considering moving to America for work interests. Given the current state of affairs, they are becoming more reticent. But what if it’s your country? I’ve always been suspicious of people who bang their chests crying that they’ll leave the country if so-and-so is elected or carry placards proclaiming “not in my name”. As if we are so emancipated that we do not belong anywhere. Or that we really wish to be so. Roy quotes Burke that a democracy should represent all the people – not just the majority. I found that a very helpful thought. 

Apollo with a new friend at the synagogue in Jew Town in Kochi

We are in Kochi (Cochin) now. It is an easy place to visit. Parks, little shopping streets, international shops and edible international food! We cross the water each morning accompanied by dolphins, and the birds – ibis, eagles, cormorants, herons, storks, the list is endless. The Chinese fishing nets welcome and send us off, and for the first time there are as many churches on our walks as mosques, temples and synagogues. Kerala has its Communist tradition of a sort, though I’m not sure it’s done any better than Islam, Buddhism or Christianity at creating equality, though all of these are at least in principle oriented that way. But the people are full of smiles, especially when they see our children, who are now good at making friends. Our guide is fasting for Ramadan and manages somehow 18 hours without water, while our children sit on his knees helping to drive the tuctuc. 

Our little driver.

Leaving friends at Wayanad.