Ceasper Part II & My Acting Debut

In case you don't have the motivation to read this entire blog, but just want to look at the pictures really (I often feel that way) I'll make a long story short by letting you know that one could sum up the following episode by saying: I've been discovered.

If you have not you may want to take a quick jog down memory lane by reviewing my post from Feb. 9th ("Crazy Women Drivers") in which I describe having a conversation with one of my co-workers about John F. Kennedy and Shakespeare. I now lovingly calling this man (to my non-Bangladeshi friends and family): Ceasper.

So a couple of weeks after the JFK talk, Ceasper was giving me a speech comparing sentences to the body and soul ("the verb is the soul of a sentence!!") and low and behold it finally came up that I am an actress. Ceasper practically fell all over himself at the word. Next thing I knew I was agreeing to do a Shakespearean (Ceaperean?) monologue at a cultural performance on their Independence Day (March 26th). In Bangladesh they have a phrase that they use in many more situations than we would in the US and this is how I responded to Ceasper when he asked me to do the performance: "keno na?" or "why not?"

I thought "keno na" because:
A) The people in the audience will not understand the language I am speaking (I mean, heck, half of the people who do speak English say they can't understand Shakespeare)
B) The acting style here (from what I have seen) is pretty over dramatic, therefore as long as you seem pretty emotional people think it is great, and...
C) I'm an American, GIRL. Most people will probably be so struck dumb by simply seeing some crazy American chick up on stage they won't even consider that I am acting.

So, I went forth my friends. I chose Juliet's "banished" speech from Romeo and Juliet and Ceasper created a Bangla translation of the monologue which he performed after me (cracking me up by trying to act as much like me as possible, a little of this is in the following video). And before I was given the "go ahead" to be in the show, I had to perform the monologue about 10 times for this group of men (who did not know much English) and have them direct me over and over again to "move around more" and "be more emotional."Oh, and also they asked me if I could dress like Juliet would have. I told them I didn't have anything here like that. They said "you do not have jeans or a t-shirt?" I tried to politely explain that though we do wear jeans and t-shirts in the West now, Juliet would not have.

I was also privileged to get to watch part of the rehearsal for the bangla drama (part also included in the video) that was in the show. It amazing how despite the vast differences in local, culture, religion (the list could go on and on), I think I can safely say now that there is something inexplicably similar about theatre people across the board. Sitting down and watching the last dress rehearsal (which meant that everyone was wound tight and suddenly couldn't remember anything they were supposed to do) felt like coming home. The director even reminded me a lot of Jay Reese.

So, the night came. I'm not sure what was said for my introduction because up until the moment I walked on stage I was frantically trying to get the "stage manager" (maybe?) to make it clear to me whether I was supposed to carry around a mic or not, however, Ceasper told me beforehand that he planned to introduce me as "Emily, big Merican (his version of "American") stage actress from Texas University." The following performance that a group of probably 100 Bangladeshis (and my sister, brother in law, and nephew) saw on Independence Day was something I rather cringe to think about (which is why, I'm sorry to inform you, my pride will not allow me to put up a clip from it). I did as I was directed. I moved around, threw myself on the floor even, used a hysterical voice, and pretended to weep. As I expected the audience seemed rather dumbstruck, but I was told afterward that my performance was (and I quote from Ceasper) "unlike anything we have ever seen before," with the caveat that they wish I had carried around a mic.

The next day at the office Ceasper informed me that the bigwigs at the cultural club were eager to have me back, but that this time we should do something together. "What did you have in mind," I ask. And without missing a beat Ceasper replies "the death scene from Othello." Now, if you are not laughing here perhaps I should remind you that this scene is perhaps one of the most dramatic duet scenes in Shakespeare's dramas. It begins with Othello caressing Desdemona as she sleeps, then, when she awakes, him chasing her around and eventually smothering her to death. If you don't think this is funny yet, watch the video and see who Ceasper is.

Though I must admit the prospective hilarity of the performance was tempting to me, in the end I convinced him instead to do a skit I made up making fun of clueless foriegners (such as myself a few months ago) in Bangladesh. We rehearsed about a week ago and I was quite impressed at Ceasper's improv skills when speaking his own language. I am still not sure what to expect, but we perform this coming Tuesday for the Bangladeshi New Year. I promise to put up a video of it this time no matter the outcome (however, this time it will be English speakers who do not know the language).

And now, the evidence that it all really happened.



Clips from the Bangla Drama and the end of Ceasper doing his version of Juliet's monologue... with me trying to keep a straight face.

Me being dramatic, #1.

Me being dramatic, #2.

The whole cast at the end of the Bangla drama.

The tech guys at the sound system.

The village set.

And now, to tag on something completely unrelated, a quick mosquito update:
1) My nephew has learned to react to the Bangla word for mosquito, "mosha," by frantically swatting the air
2)They keep getting bigger - I JUST killed one the size of a nickel!

3) I find myself wondering what it will be like to go a day without getting bit... that may be a big part of my re-acculturation process. I'll be paraniodly (can I say that?) slapping imaginary mosquitoes and one of you will shake me and say "Emily get ahold of yourself there's nothing there!"

I raced a rickshaw...

to work this morning.

I know what you are thinking: yes he was pulling his "rickshaw cart" and a passenger, and I had only myself. However, I would like to point out his advantages which you may not realize: a) experience, he's probably been on the road since he could walk and therefore does not have the cumbersome trepidation I have, b) he is on a three-wheeled vehicle and cannot easily be toppled over, AND people get out of the way for him whereas: c) people are stopping in front of me to stare.

The race was of course accidental, but I think we both knew what was happening. When he first passed me he leaned over and gave me a patronizing "hello" (how do you say "hello" in a patronizing tone you ask? I just knew people, I just knew). I was not going to stand for this. I bid my time well, and when the opportunity arose I flew past him with a little "hello" of my own. This went on for a couple of kilometers before, I am happy to report to you, I beat him by at least a few feet.

Today, I have tasted sweet victory.
However, I also moved up to 4th grade today. I had to do math... I was not as victorious there, but you know, you can't win them all.

Auntie!

So since my first nephew was born just a little over three years ago I have dreamed of the day that I would be called “Auntie” or “Aunt Emily,” “Auntie Em,” "Big E"... you get it. March 31 my third nephew, Luke Russell Savage, was born and my dreams have come true. Someone is calling me Auntie non-stop… it is just not one my nephews.

This is Bonnie (and me... obviously). She is Rina’s (our cook, and my best friend) youngest daughter. For the first 6 months I was in Bangladesh, Bonnie, despite Rina’s constant prodding, wanted to have NOTHING to do with me. When the family and I came to the little birthday party Rina threw for her, and offered her presents she looked us over very suspiciously for a long while before snatching them from us and moving to the other side of the room to open them. I tried a lot of tactics to win her over, you know, buying her with candy, giving her a lot of special attention, trying not paying any attention to her but just being in the vicinity using something I thought she might be interested in to lure her... all to no avail. After so many months of of failed attempts at befriending her I had all but completely given up, when about a month ago Rina happened to bring Bonnie to the house one day when I was working outside and I accidentally started a game of hide and seek with her. That was all it took. An accidental game and next thing I know I am constantly hearing "Auntie!!!!" yelled by Bonnie as she searched for me through the house.

As much as I am still looking forward to hearing one of my blood-related nephews call me their aunt, it is pretty wonderful hearing it from Bonnie who knows no other English and (as far as I can tell) does not speak to anyone outside of her family. I am very thankful that friendships can form without sharing a common language, because though at this point I can communicate what I need to pretty well in Bangla, Bonnie's five-year-old method of speech is completely out of my realm of expertise. She talks to me non-stop, but luckily doesn't seem too frustrated by my lack of understanding and simply pulls me wherever she needs me to go. In the picture above, Bonnie had just pulled me out in to the yard and decided it was time we adorn ourselves with flowers.

So, since I am on the children topic, I should let you know that I have began attending 1st grade (or "phela class") here. My office runs a school on the grounds and I've begun sitting in when I have time. I have got to tell you, I wish so badly I had been doing this since I got here! They are learning all the things I have needed, the alphabet, the numbers, correct pronuciation, and of course the teachers are really patient and repeat things a million times. I need one of them as a tutor. One of my favorite moments in class so far was one day when they had game time and I was told they were starting a game called "good morning." This game is just like duck duck goose, except when the "goose" is tagged, the children run opposite ways around the circle and when they meet they have to shake hands and yell "GOOD MORNING!" before racing to get to the open seat first. I can not describe how utterly delightful it was to watch these little Bangladeshi children racing around shouting muddled "good mornings" to eat other... perhaps I'll catch it on camera next time.

And speaking of next time, I really am going to write about Ceasper and my acting debut... next time. Until then... GOOD MORNING!!