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).

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.

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.

This is one of those colorful work trucks I mentioend before... except the paint isn't so good on this one, but you get the idea.

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!!

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.

Happy Holidays...

I bet you are all anxious to know what I ate for my Bangladeshi Thanksgiving dinner. I will give 10 taka (ruffly equivalent to 20 U.S. cents) to anyone who can guess correctly from the following options:

a. a large bowl of rice which I attempted to make turkey-shaped

b. a large bowl of curried yams which I attempted to make turkey-shaped

c. a wild Bangladeshi goose which I made say "gobble gobble"

d. all of the above

e. nothing

Everyone consider the options carefully...





And the answer is: E, yes that is right, nothing.

I have been told by many foreign travelers here that you haven't really lived in South Asia until you have been really ill in South Asia. Well, it looks like I've lived here now. After a week on the road with my first real cold, I returned Wednesday evening to my comfortable room in Rangpur only to spend my Thanksgiving Eve running to and from the bathroom. On reflection, I must admit that I am deeply thankful that I was blessed to throw up in the comfort of my own bathroom rather than one on the road.

After my third day spent mostly lying in bed another seasoned traveler explained to me that this was just my internal self "experiencing Bangladesh." I'm praying my internal self is satisfied now.

Now before you start feeling too sorry for me I should let you know that I didn't miss Thanksgiving festivities altogether. On Saturday we had a Thanksgiving party of sorts with a few other Americans (and one Chinese girl) here -- complete even with a miniature plastic turkey and Thanksgiving napkins my mom sent, and cranberry sauce, gravy, and canned yams brought to us by a visiting professor. No turkey though, we went with the wild Bangladeshi goose. Though I couldn't engage fully in the festivities I was able to soak up some holiday cheer.

I must confess that with the onset of the U.S. "holiday season" I have grown a little homesick. I realized it when I was going to sleep recently. You know that time when you are lying in a semiconscious state right before falling asleep and your mind is free to wonder? Well on this particular night I came back to full consciousness realizing that I had been repeatedly counting the number of months until I return home. Of course the truth is that I am not ready to leave, I want to learn and experience a lot more first, but you know, the holidays just get to you.

I yearn to sit in my parents' living room watching A Christmas Story for the millionth time, drink tea with my mom, and discuss the cutting edge church eldership quandaries with my dad. I want to practice somersaults with my nephew Ethan, and stay up late having deep philosophical conversations over wine with my siblings. I want to wear red sweaters, go to too many Christmas parties, and sing Christmas carols too loud too late at night with my crazy college friends.

(long sigh)

After ruminating on all this, and feeling sorry for myself a little, I remembered all those who have been displaced from their homes for much longer than I, and those without even the possibility of returning. So I think this holiday season I will not forget to be thankful for all my loved ones, for having a place to call home, and for years of happy memories, and pray for all who are missing these.

AND I plan to start playing Christmas music around the clock. This will be funny since Bangladesh has a tropical climate (palm trees everywhere), but you just can't pass up a Christmas with out a lot of Jingle Bells and R0ckin' Around the Christmas Tree... even in Bangladesh.

Turning British

Those of you dear friends who journeyed with me to Oxford, England may remember that I had one serious pet peeve there. A pet peeve that in fact turned into a mission of sorts for me. Those of you Texans who were not there may be able to relate. When you are walking down the side-walk in Texas and you pass someone, what happens? YOU ARE ACKNOWLEDGED. There is eye contact, a smile, maybe a nod, a "hello, how are you" or even a "howdy!" In England (in my limited experience) this is not the case. No one notices that you exist. I could have fallen dead on the street and people would have just continued on their way not wanting to cause a scene (yes I'm completely exaggerating to make my point). So while in Oxford I vowed that I would change their ways. I would prove to them how nice it was to "connect" with all those nameless people you pass everyday, what countless possibilities exist when you simply say "hello!"?

Now I am in Bangladesh. When I walk down the street EVERYONE acknowledges my existence. I know I have mentioned this before, but the novelty of it has not worn off yet. Each minute I get a few greetings. If I give even the slightest indication that I am willing to engage with someone 9 times out of 10 a long conversation (sometimes in Bangla I don't understand, and sometimes in an always exciting Bangla-English mix) is commenced.

So here it is, today I realized not only do I miss people ignoring me in England, but I am actually like them here! Most of the time I am out I walk very fast not looking at anyone, and hoping I can keep from having to talk to anyone. Oh how the tables have turned. You can laugh at me now Amy.

Also, I keep having this urge to use a British accent when speaking to people in English here.

Since we have been here people have guessed that we were: English, German, Australian, American, and (the kicker which has happened more than once) Chinese. No joke.
You all just chew on that until my next post.

Pictures!

I have a good internet connection for a while so I thought it was time I put up some pictures!! However, I couldn't figure out how to move these around (I'm so inept with this computer thingamagigger) so in no particular order...

This is one view from our roof deck... not especially exciting, but you'll notice that there is a whole lot of foliage. I love that about Bangladesh, it is so green. And a couple of coconut trees! There are so many fruit trees growing everywhere here!

This is Rina cutting up some papaya (or in Bangla, "pepe"). You can't see it really here, but there is this extension on the knife that she has her leg on to hold it in place. It is amazing what she can do with that thing.

This is some kid who wanders in to our house occasionally... he always wants food.

This is a fancy dinner we had on Jeremy and Alison's birthday. We got sprite!! Also, of course, rice, curried meat and vegatables.

Here is Alison, Ezra, and I on the main road heading for the market. The shawls we have around our shoulders are our "ornas," the long shirts are the "kameezes," and the baggy pants are the "shalwars." And Ezra is wearing a "hat" :-)

Here is Ezra, being held by Rina, and next to her is her mother Fulmoti who watches Ezra. Oh, and they are in our house.
My sister and I hanging out around the house... WITHOUT our ornas on. Scandalous. This is my favorite kameez though. I'll definitely be sporting this in the states so get ready.

The Beggars.

It is late at night (or early in the morning, however you look at) and though I have been pretty avid about going to bed early since I arrived in Bangladesh, tonight after lying in bed for a while, I thought I might as well share some of my wanderings.

Picture this, you are walking down a city street and you see him coming. He approaches you and starts off on the typical story about how he ran out of gas down the road and only needs a few bucks to get him back to X where his 5 children are waiting. And in your mind you are assessing the situation, assessing the man. What is the probability that he is telling the truth? Is he really in need or just scamming you? Is it his own fault that he is in this position?

Now, picture Bangladesh. Though I have been approached by more beggars here than all the rest of my life combined, nothing close to a scene like the one above has ever occurred. And why?? Why because no one in his right mind could question the intense need of people here. No beggar need tell their sob story, it is written on their emaciated faces. As they tap on your car door and put their hands to their mouths, you don’t wonder if they are really hungry. As they lay, barely clothed, along the road, baking in the sun with their hands outstretched, you don’t wonder if they really just want to by beer and party.

The other day while walking home I saw a man with no legs rolling himself down the street while singing loudly. And I mean THE STREET, the street where cars and bicycles are swerving to avoid him. It was at this moment when I suddenly remembered that people with disabilities being simply lain out on the street to beg was not normal in the U.S.

What is bothering me is not guilt as I thought it would be before coming here. Though I do sometimes feel guilty, the greater feeling is flat out rejection. I walk down the streets and starving, disfigured, abandoned people hold out their hands to me. I reject it. I will not believe it. Because if I believe it, if I stand and stare into their eyes, I fear the weight of this reality might crush me. I have read about much worse things, and yet, the first time you see something… well, I guess sometimes seeing is believing in a whole new way.

So there you have it, I have finally allowed myself a negative post.

I am thankful that Mother Teresa did not reject what she saw in Calcutta.