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.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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!!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Crazy Women Drivers, Part II
Back by popular demand, more stories from the road.
As a general note I must say that since starting my bike riding adventures I have gotten a lot better. I am not constantly feeling that I am about to die (although it is not an infrequent feeling) and I've even begun to enjoy the scenery a little. However, every time I complete an event less journey I feel a bit like I should be given some kind of recognition or something. Sometimes I show up to the office and the guard opens the gate and I want to exclaim "Can you believe I just rode my bike all the way here! I am awesome!", but then I remember that 8 year-olds ride bikes all over the place here, and of course, I don't know how to say all of that in Bangla.
Now, a story.
So one day not long after the incident mentioned in my last entry, I am on my bike coming back from the office. I am feeling pretty good about myself as I have avoided multiple accidents and even woven my way through a conglomeration of at least 100 elementary school students hanging out on the road, when I approach the site of my accident. This time I am not taking any risks. I approach with utmost caution slowly scanning my surroundings for other vehicles and/or animals/children etc. that might suddenly appear. I am almost to the bridge moments from being home free, when I see two rickshaws coming at me with a large truck behind them. Now, I will admit, there was a little space left on my side of the road that I could possibly have gotten by on, but remember I am in the "take no chances" mode, so I decide instead to simply hop off the bike on the little dirt shoulder and wait for them to pass.
- A moment of reflection: Is it just me or did this seem like a smart idea? I mean it did right? Vehicles are coming at you, you get out of the way, smart girl. And yet, Bangladesh always has surprises for me. -
So, I hop. Next thing I know I am sinking quickly through the dirt heading for a fish pond at the bottom of the drop. I mean, it is seriously like quicksand on some cartoon. The bike and I would have ended up in the pond moments later had we not been caught... by a brick wall.
Now I am waist deep in (I now realize) newly laid dirt with my face against the wall still clinging to one handlebar of my bike. This could have been pretty difficult to get out of but luckily in Bangladesh one would be hard pressed to find a place where at least ten people aren't hanging around just waiting for something (like a white girl falling off a bike) to happen. So, before I am even able to fully assess my situation two young guys are picking up my bike and pulling me out of the ditch with expert speed (later I think how grateful I was for the momentary breech of the normal "men and women don't touch in public" custom). I do a quick body scan and note that I am covered in dirt, but uninjured, AND (this is the important thing) I have not lost my orna.
The guys look at me with concerned faces and say "hospee-tal lagbe? hospee-tal?" I begin laughing. The guys look more concerned. I thank them and get back on the bike, still covered in dirt.
Later that day:
My Sister: What happened to your leg?
Me: What do you mean?
My Sister: You're all cut up.
Me: (looking at my ankle) Oh... you know, the bike got me.
Ok! That is all for bike stories now, but you can get yourselves ready for my next post:
"Ceasper, Part 2 & My Acting Debut." You won't want to miss it.
As a general note I must say that since starting my bike riding adventures I have gotten a lot better. I am not constantly feeling that I am about to die (although it is not an infrequent feeling) and I've even begun to enjoy the scenery a little. However, every time I complete an event less journey I feel a bit like I should be given some kind of recognition or something. Sometimes I show up to the office and the guard opens the gate and I want to exclaim "Can you believe I just rode my bike all the way here! I am awesome!", but then I remember that 8 year-olds ride bikes all over the place here, and of course, I don't know how to say all of that in Bangla.
Now, a story.
So one day not long after the incident mentioned in my last entry, I am on my bike coming back from the office. I am feeling pretty good about myself as I have avoided multiple accidents and even woven my way through a conglomeration of at least 100 elementary school students hanging out on the road, when I approach the site of my accident. This time I am not taking any risks. I approach with utmost caution slowly scanning my surroundings for other vehicles and/or animals/children etc. that might suddenly appear. I am almost to the bridge moments from being home free, when I see two rickshaws coming at me with a large truck behind them. Now, I will admit, there was a little space left on my side of the road that I could possibly have gotten by on, but remember I am in the "take no chances" mode, so I decide instead to simply hop off the bike on the little dirt shoulder and wait for them to pass.
- A moment of reflection: Is it just me or did this seem like a smart idea? I mean it did right? Vehicles are coming at you, you get out of the way, smart girl. And yet, Bangladesh always has surprises for me. -
So, I hop. Next thing I know I am sinking quickly through the dirt heading for a fish pond at the bottom of the drop. I mean, it is seriously like quicksand on some cartoon. The bike and I would have ended up in the pond moments later had we not been caught... by a brick wall.
Now I am waist deep in (I now realize) newly laid dirt with my face against the wall still clinging to one handlebar of my bike. This could have been pretty difficult to get out of but luckily in Bangladesh one would be hard pressed to find a place where at least ten people aren't hanging around just waiting for something (like a white girl falling off a bike) to happen. So, before I am even able to fully assess my situation two young guys are picking up my bike and pulling me out of the ditch with expert speed (later I think how grateful I was for the momentary breech of the normal "men and women don't touch in public" custom). I do a quick body scan and note that I am covered in dirt, but uninjured, AND (this is the important thing) I have not lost my orna.
The guys look at me with concerned faces and say "hospee-tal lagbe? hospee-tal?" I begin laughing. The guys look more concerned. I thank them and get back on the bike, still covered in dirt.
Later that day:
My Sister: What happened to your leg?
Me: What do you mean?
My Sister: You're all cut up.
Me: (looking at my ankle) Oh... you know, the bike got me.
Ok! That is all for bike stories now, but you can get yourselves ready for my next post:
"Ceasper, Part 2 & My Acting Debut." You won't want to miss it.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Crazy Women Drivers
You know those horror stories you always hear about teens who have accidents their first day on the road? When I worked for State Farm Insurance I received a call one day from a mother whose daughter had just hit 5 parked cars in the school parking lot her first day out. My story isn’t that bad, but I bet more people already know about it.
So if I haven’t mentioned it before the roads here are crazy. It feels something like it might if you set all the animals in a zoo free at once in a narrow area and them all going their separate ways. The roads are mostly very narrow, and laden with pot holes. Then you have all the rickshaws, bikes, motorbikes, mini-motorized rickshaws, cows, goats, chickens, various piles of things, a few cars, and huge over crowed buses. Oh, and all the people who stop on the road to stare at me. It didn’t take long for me to decide I never wanted to operate any kind of vehicle on these roads.
However, I am also against paying the exorbitant bideshi prices of 40 taka every time I go to work (more on that later). So yesterday I said forget it, and decided to take myself to work on my brother-in-law’s bike. My anxious feelings were compounded by the fact that very few women ever drive anything here. I have in fact never seen a woman on a bike since I have been here. All the same though, I think “hey it is just riding a bike, I can do this,” and I feel certain at least that today must fall in the beginners luck category, so that if I am going to have problems they will come later when I get cocky.
So without waiting to get too scared to go I wrap my orna around my head and set off. I use my acting skills to look confident, but I am scared to death and am repeating in my head over and over “I am going to die, I am going to die” as I go along. However, eventually I get out of the main part of the city to a less crowed area. I begin to feel a little confidence creeping into my consciousness (the kiss of death) and that is when it happens. As with most accidents, I truthfully could not tell you exactly what happened. All I know is that one second I was coming up to a small bridge thinking about how the rickshaws always slow down and move to the middle when they go over it, and the next second I had collided head on with one such rickshaw. I was completely stunned, but I think the rickshaw walla and passenger were even more so. I quickly said “I’m so sorry” in Bangla, and they just stared with mouths wide open.
Without thinking to check to see if the bike was alright or if I was injured, I jumped back on and started riding. I realized later I had a cut on my hand that was bleeding. As I rode away some man shouted something in Bangla to the effect of “you women shouldn’t be on the road!” All I could think to answer was “I know!”
Soon after that a boy whom I’m guessing was about 15 years old rode up beside me and began talking to me in Bangla-English.
Boy: "the road is very dangerous”
Me: “I know, do you think I will kill myself out here?”
Boy: “Oh yes.”
I didn’t though. And now I have gotten the bike back home and been informed that people run into rickshaws all the time, it is to be expected.
This is already too long but I have some catching up to do, so I’m plowing on.
The best news is that I have finally found a place to volunteer. It is this NGO called Gana Unnayan Kendra (GUK). I fell in love with it the first day I went to visit, and have gone almost everyday since. Their work is pretty varied but it can generally fall into the categories of disaster relief, human rights, and poverty reduction. I am still not sure exactly what I will be doing there, right now I am just learning about the organization, but it is so wonderful to be out on my own finally meeting people and feeling hopeful that I may be somewhat productive while in Bangladesh.
And now, a few funny moments on the job.
One day I got to go out to a small village where they were conducting a meeting with women to help them understand the resources and aid available to them. I wish I had a picture of this, because once again I felt like I was in the middle of a national geographic phote shoot, and yet, it felt at the same time so run-of-the-mill. I was made to stand up and introduce myself shortly after my arrival, then sit in the center of the circle throughout the talks. They did this to honor me, but I felt a little like I was in the “mush pot” and gave myself a headache trying to look like I was understanding the Bangla speeches. Afterward I was immediately surrounded by all of the women bombarding me with questions (which was actually kind of fun). When I answered negatively to the “biye hoyeche??” (are you married?) their excitement could not be contained, their were giggles and outburst of applause. I have a feeling next time I go to this village there will be eligible bachelors waiting.
Meeting people at the office has created an interesting social problem. Here is the issue: shaking hands. I am aware that on the whole in Bangladesh men and women never touch in public, so whenever I meet a male I simply bow my head a little. Now the issue is that the people at the office all have had higher education, so they know something of western culture and are aware of the fact that in the US shaking hands is a co-ed event. So this is how it goes down: 1) I am introduced to a male person 2) male moves his hand to shake mine 3) male realizes I have not moved my hand and starts to put his back down 4) at the same moment it registers with me that he wants to shake my hand so I bring it out 5) we both feel awkward.
Today I had this conversation with a man at the office who claims to have a masters in English literature (for purposes of anonymity I will call him Azad… and because I can’t remember his real name, but I do know a guy here named Azad).
Azad: Where are you from in Texas?
Me: Dallas (I am from Fort Worth and in the US it is a big deal to me to differentiate this from Dallas, but some people here have heard of Dallas, and for goodness sakes this is Bangladesh so I don’t think I have any call to be nitpicky).
Azad: Oh, Dallas is a very famous and great city.
Me: Thank you.
Azad: Dallas Dallas Dallas, yes, a fine city. Do you about the great American president Kennedy, JFK, who was, was he not, ass-nated, there?
Me: (trying to hold back the smile) Yes I do.
Azad: Yes he was ass-i-nated. And do you know about the tragedy about his wife Jacqueline?
Me: No, I do not.
Azad: After he was ass-i-nated, she married a Greek man!
Me: … (waiting for what the tragedy was)
Azad: Can you believe that? Oh women! Faithless!
Me: … (thinking about how it is acceptable here for men to have more than one wife at the same time)
Azad: Do you know about Ceasper?
Me: … I don’t think so.
Azad: Oh you must know, he was a very very famous poet in UK, Ceasper!
Me:… oh, Shakespeare!
Azad: Yes, Ceasper!
Me: Oh yes, I have actually performed in-
Azad: He wrote many many plays.
Me: Yes I-
Azad: One was Macbeth, very very famous, many many people know it.
Me: Yes like I was saying I-
Azad: and Hamlet, also very famous.
Me: yes.
Azad: In one of the plays Ceasper says “Frailty, thy name is woman!”
Me: (astounded) Yes he does.
Azad: I am not saying I agree, I am not saying that! But oh, the tragedy of Jaquiline!
And lastly I met a girl with some serious attitude named Asha. She is one of the few women I have met who seems to know exactly what she is about and not act nervous around me. I found out today her name means “hope” in Bangla. I think we are going to be good friends.
The End!
So if I haven’t mentioned it before the roads here are crazy. It feels something like it might if you set all the animals in a zoo free at once in a narrow area and them all going their separate ways. The roads are mostly very narrow, and laden with pot holes. Then you have all the rickshaws, bikes, motorbikes, mini-motorized rickshaws, cows, goats, chickens, various piles of things, a few cars, and huge over crowed buses. Oh, and all the people who stop on the road to stare at me. It didn’t take long for me to decide I never wanted to operate any kind of vehicle on these roads.
However, I am also against paying the exorbitant bideshi prices of 40 taka every time I go to work (more on that later). So yesterday I said forget it, and decided to take myself to work on my brother-in-law’s bike. My anxious feelings were compounded by the fact that very few women ever drive anything here. I have in fact never seen a woman on a bike since I have been here. All the same though, I think “hey it is just riding a bike, I can do this,” and I feel certain at least that today must fall in the beginners luck category, so that if I am going to have problems they will come later when I get cocky.
So without waiting to get too scared to go I wrap my orna around my head and set off. I use my acting skills to look confident, but I am scared to death and am repeating in my head over and over “I am going to die, I am going to die” as I go along. However, eventually I get out of the main part of the city to a less crowed area. I begin to feel a little confidence creeping into my consciousness (the kiss of death) and that is when it happens. As with most accidents, I truthfully could not tell you exactly what happened. All I know is that one second I was coming up to a small bridge thinking about how the rickshaws always slow down and move to the middle when they go over it, and the next second I had collided head on with one such rickshaw. I was completely stunned, but I think the rickshaw walla and passenger were even more so. I quickly said “I’m so sorry” in Bangla, and they just stared with mouths wide open.
Without thinking to check to see if the bike was alright or if I was injured, I jumped back on and started riding. I realized later I had a cut on my hand that was bleeding. As I rode away some man shouted something in Bangla to the effect of “you women shouldn’t be on the road!” All I could think to answer was “I know!”
Soon after that a boy whom I’m guessing was about 15 years old rode up beside me and began talking to me in Bangla-English.
Boy: "the road is very dangerous”
Me: “I know, do you think I will kill myself out here?”
Boy: “Oh yes.”
I didn’t though. And now I have gotten the bike back home and been informed that people run into rickshaws all the time, it is to be expected.
This is already too long but I have some catching up to do, so I’m plowing on.
The best news is that I have finally found a place to volunteer. It is this NGO called Gana Unnayan Kendra (GUK). I fell in love with it the first day I went to visit, and have gone almost everyday since. Their work is pretty varied but it can generally fall into the categories of disaster relief, human rights, and poverty reduction. I am still not sure exactly what I will be doing there, right now I am just learning about the organization, but it is so wonderful to be out on my own finally meeting people and feeling hopeful that I may be somewhat productive while in Bangladesh.
And now, a few funny moments on the job.
One day I got to go out to a small village where they were conducting a meeting with women to help them understand the resources and aid available to them. I wish I had a picture of this, because once again I felt like I was in the middle of a national geographic phote shoot, and yet, it felt at the same time so run-of-the-mill. I was made to stand up and introduce myself shortly after my arrival, then sit in the center of the circle throughout the talks. They did this to honor me, but I felt a little like I was in the “mush pot” and gave myself a headache trying to look like I was understanding the Bangla speeches. Afterward I was immediately surrounded by all of the women bombarding me with questions (which was actually kind of fun). When I answered negatively to the “biye hoyeche??” (are you married?) their excitement could not be contained, their were giggles and outburst of applause. I have a feeling next time I go to this village there will be eligible bachelors waiting.
Meeting people at the office has created an interesting social problem. Here is the issue: shaking hands. I am aware that on the whole in Bangladesh men and women never touch in public, so whenever I meet a male I simply bow my head a little. Now the issue is that the people at the office all have had higher education, so they know something of western culture and are aware of the fact that in the US shaking hands is a co-ed event. So this is how it goes down: 1) I am introduced to a male person 2) male moves his hand to shake mine 3) male realizes I have not moved my hand and starts to put his back down 4) at the same moment it registers with me that he wants to shake my hand so I bring it out 5) we both feel awkward.
Today I had this conversation with a man at the office who claims to have a masters in English literature (for purposes of anonymity I will call him Azad… and because I can’t remember his real name, but I do know a guy here named Azad).
Azad: Where are you from in Texas?
Me: Dallas (I am from Fort Worth and in the US it is a big deal to me to differentiate this from Dallas, but some people here have heard of Dallas, and for goodness sakes this is Bangladesh so I don’t think I have any call to be nitpicky).
Azad: Oh, Dallas is a very famous and great city.
Me: Thank you.
Azad: Dallas Dallas Dallas, yes, a fine city. Do you about the great American president Kennedy, JFK, who was, was he not, ass-nated, there?
Me: (trying to hold back the smile) Yes I do.
Azad: Yes he was ass-i-nated. And do you know about the tragedy about his wife Jacqueline?
Me: No, I do not.
Azad: After he was ass-i-nated, she married a Greek man!
Me: … (waiting for what the tragedy was)
Azad: Can you believe that? Oh women! Faithless!
Me: … (thinking about how it is acceptable here for men to have more than one wife at the same time)
Azad: Do you know about Ceasper?
Me: … I don’t think so.
Azad: Oh you must know, he was a very very famous poet in UK, Ceasper!
Me:… oh, Shakespeare!
Azad: Yes, Ceasper!
Me: Oh yes, I have actually performed in-
Azad: He wrote many many plays.
Me: Yes I-
Azad: One was Macbeth, very very famous, many many people know it.
Me: Yes like I was saying I-
Azad: and Hamlet, also very famous.
Me: yes.
Azad: In one of the plays Ceasper says “Frailty, thy name is woman!”
Me: (astounded) Yes he does.
Azad: I am not saying I agree, I am not saying that! But oh, the tragedy of Jaquiline!
And lastly I met a girl with some serious attitude named Asha. She is one of the few women I have met who seems to know exactly what she is about and not act nervous around me. I found out today her name means “hope” in Bangla. I think we are going to be good friends.
The End!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I have 10 minutes...
So I am going to send out a quick update... in the form of a list so I stay focused.
1. The elections went very well. Like, a lot better than anyone expected I think. We had bought extra food and were all geared up to be shut in for a week, and when it ended up that everything went smoothly we didn't really know what to do with ourselves. The papers say this was the smoothest, and safest election Bangladesh has had so far. There was a very clear majority party winner, and from my little bideshi point of view, all seems well.
2. We have now officially moved. This was a CRAZY experience, that took much longer than we expected (in Bangladesh, just because someone says "you can move in on the 1st" that doesn't mean they will actually have your house finished... there may still be 20 workers hanging out there with paint cans rebuilding walls) but in the end went well I think. We are moved, and I like the house very much except for the huge animal-like cockroaches that greeted me in my desk drawer the other morning... ugh.
3. The Bangla tutor. Well, what can I say, the grass is always greener on the other side. The Bangla tutoring was interesting as well. The tutor was very nice, but is used to teaching Bangla speakers English, and it is a lot harder to switch directions than you might think. I found myself so stressed by it that I wanted to say "you know, maybe I'll just read my books." However, it was helpful, but now we have moved, so I am on a search once again.
4. Ezra discovered squinting! It is the cutest thing. I mean... I say that about him all the time, but seriously. He will be eating lunch then all of the sudden scrunch up his eyes at you, and intermittently blink a lot. I'm telling you people, it is worth a little trip out to West Asia to see.
OK! It has been 11 minutes!
Next time, pictures of the new house, and maybe even a tela-puka (cockroach).
1. The elections went very well. Like, a lot better than anyone expected I think. We had bought extra food and were all geared up to be shut in for a week, and when it ended up that everything went smoothly we didn't really know what to do with ourselves. The papers say this was the smoothest, and safest election Bangladesh has had so far. There was a very clear majority party winner, and from my little bideshi point of view, all seems well.
2. We have now officially moved. This was a CRAZY experience, that took much longer than we expected (in Bangladesh, just because someone says "you can move in on the 1st" that doesn't mean they will actually have your house finished... there may still be 20 workers hanging out there with paint cans rebuilding walls) but in the end went well I think. We are moved, and I like the house very much except for the huge animal-like cockroaches that greeted me in my desk drawer the other morning... ugh.
3. The Bangla tutor. Well, what can I say, the grass is always greener on the other side. The Bangla tutoring was interesting as well. The tutor was very nice, but is used to teaching Bangla speakers English, and it is a lot harder to switch directions than you might think. I found myself so stressed by it that I wanted to say "you know, maybe I'll just read my books." However, it was helpful, but now we have moved, so I am on a search once again.
4. Ezra discovered squinting! It is the cutest thing. I mean... I say that about him all the time, but seriously. He will be eating lunch then all of the sudden scrunch up his eyes at you, and intermittently blink a lot. I'm telling you people, it is worth a little trip out to West Asia to see.
OK! It has been 11 minutes!
Next time, pictures of the new house, and maybe even a tela-puka (cockroach).
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Morning moments, election dreams, and the question of existence.
A moment of my life today:
Though I frequently wake to the sound of a cow (that I could swear is using a megaphone) mooing outside of my window, this morning I received a new wake up call. I was jolted from my sleep by the noise of loud banging on my window. My initial thought was that someone had scaled the wall, and was now clinging to my second story window bars wanting in. This may seem like a rather fantastic first thought, but you must understand that more than once I have opened the curtains in the morning to find myself face to face with someone perched in a papaya or coconut tree working to get the respective fruits. After a few moments of panic (Should I stay in bed? Should I bang back and yell “jao!!” – go away? Why do they want in!??) I heard a loud “khaw khaw!” A bird. I fell back asleep, to be woken up minutes later… same bird. It was early on an off day, I contemplated homicide… but instead got up, flung the curtains open to face my enemy, and thanked him for welcoming me into a new day.
Today is an off day (my sister and brother-in-law’s office is closed) because for the first time in 7 years Bangladeshis are voting for a new government. Two years ago, when the last election should have been, the process was cut short by a military take over in light of charges of corruption and election rigging. Since then they have been in a state of “emergency government” and though I am told Bangladesh has been a little more stable in this state, many rights of the Bangladeshi people were lost to ensure this stability. It is an exciting time to be here. The current atmosphere reminds me a lot of what I imagine the 60s to be like in America. I can’t wait to show you all news paper pictures of huge groups of people protesting and forming human chains around buildings or in roads. The young adults of today are simmering over with desire to see the sacrifices of their parents and grandparents, who won them their sovereignty as a nation separate from Pakistan only 37 years ago, come to fruition. Rina came in this morning late from giving her first vote. She proudly showed me her thumb where a thick black line was drawn to insure that she did not try to vote twice. The papers are oozing with hope for a new tomorrow, often referencing America’s choice of Obama and “change” with faith that Bangladesh can have change too.
Today I say a prayer for Bangladesh, for justice and peace. Things may be a little crazy this next week as the new government comes to power, and I ask you all for prayers as well.
Though I frequently wake to the sound of a cow (that I could swear is using a megaphone) mooing outside of my window, this morning I received a new wake up call. I was jolted from my sleep by the noise of loud banging on my window. My initial thought was that someone had scaled the wall, and was now clinging to my second story window bars wanting in. This may seem like a rather fantastic first thought, but you must understand that more than once I have opened the curtains in the morning to find myself face to face with someone perched in a papaya or coconut tree working to get the respective fruits. After a few moments of panic (Should I stay in bed? Should I bang back and yell “jao!!” – go away? Why do they want in!??) I heard a loud “khaw khaw!” A bird. I fell back asleep, to be woken up minutes later… same bird. It was early on an off day, I contemplated homicide… but instead got up, flung the curtains open to face my enemy, and thanked him for welcoming me into a new day.
Today is an off day (my sister and brother-in-law’s office is closed) because for the first time in 7 years Bangladeshis are voting for a new government. Two years ago, when the last election should have been, the process was cut short by a military take over in light of charges of corruption and election rigging. Since then they have been in a state of “emergency government” and though I am told Bangladesh has been a little more stable in this state, many rights of the Bangladeshi people were lost to ensure this stability. It is an exciting time to be here. The current atmosphere reminds me a lot of what I imagine the 60s to be like in America. I can’t wait to show you all news paper pictures of huge groups of people protesting and forming human chains around buildings or in roads. The young adults of today are simmering over with desire to see the sacrifices of their parents and grandparents, who won them their sovereignty as a nation separate from Pakistan only 37 years ago, come to fruition. Rina came in this morning late from giving her first vote. She proudly showed me her thumb where a thick black line was drawn to insure that she did not try to vote twice. The papers are oozing with hope for a new tomorrow, often referencing America’s choice of Obama and “change” with faith that Bangladesh can have change too.
Today I say a prayer for Bangladesh, for justice and peace. Things may be a little crazy this next week as the new government comes to power, and I ask you all for prayers as well.
For more info on the election click here.
But what I really need to get off my chest this morning is the question of MOSQUITOES. Listen to this my friends, last night as I was putting down my mosquito net I counted ten of the blood sucking vermin (you don’t have many opportunities to say that and it be literally true) ON my net. ON THE NET! Their cockiness overwhelms me. We assumed that the mosquito population would decrease with the onset of winter here, but evidentially we are now in prime mosquito season. We are told that the mosquitoes are cold outside so they come in… hmmm. Here is the age old question I contemplated last night as I fiercely hunted the intruders – WHY? Why do they exist? What is the point of their presence on this earth? With most animals and insects that interfere in human business there is some underlying environmental reason, we know that somehow the fragile chain of life would be thrown off with out them. But mosquitoes? If any one knows of any reason, ANY, for their presence here, it would give me great peace of mind to be informed.
And now, for your veiwing pleasure, a few pictures:
Us trying out sandals on Ezra for the first time. Didn't take. Who came up with "baby shoes" anyway. Crazy idea if you ask me.
I finally roped Rina in to smiling in a picture with me, she may have given in because she just go this new pink shalwar kameez for Eid.
Thanksgiving cooking. Jeremy is pretty excited.
Picture taken out of the car window one morning (as is the one at the beginning of this entry, it is of baby banana trees). ISN'T BANGLADESH BEAUTIFUL?? Now in the mornings there is a lot of fog, and over the rice feilds... yeah, it is something to see.
Me after my first time out wearing the orna over my head. I'm feeling pretty proud of myself for my steps in the acculturation process. Do I look natural or what?!
And that's all!!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Ami Khushi!
There are currently quite a few things that I should tell you about (e.g. the huge Muslim Eid holiday that just happened and me watching cows being sacrificed; Ezra making the transition from baby to crazy crawling little boy), but what I have to say is, WE HAVE A BANGLA TUTOR!
We met with her for the first time to plan out our lessons just a moment ago, and we start TOMORROW! The title of this entry says "I am Happy" (or literally "I happy")in Bangla, and friends, I am. I am ECSTATIC actually, but I don't know how to say that in Bangla.
I have not given updates on my Banlga progress mainly because there has not been much of it. I can pretty much get around (buy what I need at markets and introduce myself correctly) but I have yet to have simple conversations entirely in Bangla, and this has driven me crazy.
I am ready for this to change.
It will change.
It is time for cha. More later my friends. More later.
We met with her for the first time to plan out our lessons just a moment ago, and we start TOMORROW! The title of this entry says "I am Happy" (or literally "I happy")in Bangla, and friends, I am. I am ECSTATIC actually, but I don't know how to say that in Bangla.
I have not given updates on my Banlga progress mainly because there has not been much of it. I can pretty much get around (buy what I need at markets and introduce myself correctly) but I have yet to have simple conversations entirely in Bangla, and this has driven me crazy.
I am ready for this to change.
It will change.
It is time for cha. More later my friends. More later.
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