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In the heat of summer this pretty lady cooked up what looked like pancakes. They called it chapatees. Over her head was a shade like a big curtain. She was just on the edge of the street probably in front of her own home. I walked by her and was interested in her make shift griddle.

 I had tried to get flat bread like this for demonstration on the table of shewbread in the sanctuary lessons each night. Every time I asked the pastor, he went out hunting for expensive yeast raised bread for us to eat. My words were not understood. My English accent was so different from his that there were many times we did not understand each other's English.

One day I decided to venture out on my own. I did not know how to ask for chapatees in Telugu so I took the neighbor girl. She did not understand me well but knew I wanted 12 of those things I pointed to. As I gave her 100 rupies, she said something to the cook. The cook began at once to cook up 12. This was a giant order. Most want just one chapatee. They were a rupee each. She interrupted her work on my order to give others their one chapatee. They ate  it quickly and hurried on to wherever they were going.  This was the India version of a fast food business. She was also making round puffy white things. I think they were rice cakes. A large crowd gathered to watch the American take pictures. They always gathered if we stood in the street. Many visitors came near this cooking spot. The mother pig with all her piglets waited for something to eat. Actually they ate paper and rotting food items that people placed on the street for them.
A giant truck came down the narrow street barely missing her little fire and umbrella tarp. Just as it went past her spot, the truck ran over some garbage that broke and sent a piece flying her direction, barely missing her. The watchful eye of the pastor's helpers noticed me in the street. He ran to where I was and asked me if I was all right. Then he pleaded with me to get off the street and stay in my rented room area. They were all so worried about our safety for someone had been murdered who was giving gospel meetings. They all were so careful to keep us safe that we were not allowed to be seen in market or on the street.
God had a big angel guard about us. No one needed to worry about us. It was very kind of them. Everyone was so hospitable to us. We visited many homes and the first thing they wanted to do was give us a drink. They must have been told by the pastor that we would accept orange pop but not pepsi or other drinks with caffeine in them. If we wanted anything we had to be careful for they would sacrifice everything to get things for us. We met so many wonderful people.
Finally the chapatees were all finished and they sent along some sauce to go on them. We told them we were not planning to eat them. This really shocked them. The sauce was not necessary. We sent it back. They could not understand because our neighbors were not going out to the villages where we were holding meetings. They came into my room and looked at my pictures on the computer and I guess they finally understood. They were helpful in getting the brass pitcher to go in the middle of the table of shewbread for grape juice.