One of the very cool things about Baha’i communities around the world is that they tend to take the form of the culture they are in, this is especially so when the members of the community are made up mostly of local people rather than travelers like myself. The best place to see this play out is always the Nineteen Day Feast; they will take place in the local language, sing prayers and songs in the local language in the local style, the form of community consultation will reflect the local culture, and the meeting will always end with local food and social activities. English Canadian Feasts are very structured and productive, French Canadian Feasts are full of laughter, Feasts in Macau have very engaging and fun social activities, Thai Feasts have the most food and Ghanaian Feasts have the most amazing music. I feel as though I have had unprecedented access to the culture of every place I have lived in through the local hospitality of local Baha’i communities. Local, local, local.
The Nineteen Day Feast is the only activity of a Baha’i community that is Baha’i-only, and as the name suggests, it occurs every nineteen days, nineteen times a year, at a village, town, city or neighborhood basis. It generally consists of three portions: devotional, administrative and social.
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As our long day in the field robbing farmers of all their data was winding down on Monday afternoon, my cold was seeming like it was finally over. Though, my sense of smell had still not returned from its three day hiatus – which makes being in India much like watching The Fountain with a blindfold on. Just before we left the village I was attacked with a splitting headache so strong I began suspect I had malaria. Having malaria was in direct conflict with my evening’s plan of attending my first Feast in Dharwad.
A review of the literature in my room on malaria symptoms had brought me to the ultimate decision all Baha’is must face at some point in their lives:
Should I go to the Feast or to the hospital?
In most malaria-scare cases I would have chosen hospital, but I knew that this first Feast would be a crucial one for getting integrated into my new community, plus I had missed my last Feast for my flight out of Ottawa. The hospital could wait a few hours. Well, I convinced myself anyways.
Here is a photo from my first exploratory mission to the Dharwad Baha’i Centre a week ago.
As I entered the Baha’i Centre half an hour late, a quick glance of the impressive collection of sandals outside the door did not reveal anything but many tiny ones. As I headed towards a free seat in the circle of about thirty children and two adults, I was directed by Mr. Kumar Naika, the Baha’i Centre’s caretaker, to sit behind a table on a dais at the end of the room. The table was neatly set up with a selection of Baha’i books in Kannada with flower petals on them. The seating arrangement suddenly transformed from a circle to an audience.
Mr. Naika stood at the front and addressed the children in Kannada as I sat behind and reverently patted the fluffy headed infant that had independently climbed up to hand me his balloon. At some point after saying my name he turned around and said “America?” to which I corrected him “Canada.”
The children then delivered a program of prayers and readings sung from memory in Kannada while the infant sat on Mr. Naika’s lap next to me and kept ominously picking up a glass paperweight and waving it around the way infants often do with various things. I had to listen to the prayers with one eye open to confiscate the thing and put it back on the table several times until I placed it high up on a dusty bookcase next to me. This is the infant in question, keep an eye out for him:
At the end Mr. Naika gestured to me to read a prayer, so I grabbed my book from my backpack and selfishly read aloud the short healing prayer.
This marked the end of the devotional program and Mr. Naika began to call for volunteers to sing songs from they must have learned in their children’s class. All the kids started doing that thing that kids do where they raise one twitching hand to be chosen and the other hand will hold their wrists and elbows in support. More Kannada songs were performed from the front and was one sung solo by a little girl as she danced in a traditional style. I will have to record a video of this one for you guys next time she does it, it was totally incredible.
After this portion Mr. Naika gave me a handful of pens to hand down one by one to the winners of musical chairs and picture drawing contests from their children’s class. A closing prayer was read and then the children filed out of the Centre after being dismissed by Mr. Naika.
Over tea in the now empty Baha’i Centre, he informed me that I was to be a fourth member of the administrative committee for Dharwad. This is an institution that will sometimes exist in the absence of enough adult members to elect a Local Spiritual Assembly. I am glad to be a member, and now settles my inner debate about whether to focus my language study on either Hindi or Kannada as Mr. Kumar and his wife do not have either English or Hindi.
Most communities would kill to have this level of participation from children, but I have to say that it would have been nice to have a couple more adults and youth, but this is a shortage that will be rectified in about ten years judging by Monday’s Feast. In the meantime, I’m curious to find out how what niche I can possibly fill while I’m here, and hopefully you will be too and will continue follow this thread of the story.
Oh, and I didn’t have malaria.
Samuel Benoit 
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