So, one last blog, in case there are any hanger-on-ers who are dying to know what happened to me after I lamented about packing.
I got home nearly a month ago, and it has been wonderful. I was wondering if I would be bitter or frustrated or confused about the quick change of pace and life style. Honestly, I've had a really great transition. I am thankful.
America is great. At first, I was weirded out by how new, rectangular, clean, shiny, organized and quiet it was. I ran outside my first morning in Philly with my friend Alaina, and felt my first genuinely cool breeze with gentle sunlight. It was amazing. The roads looked wide and nearly boring. What especially got me was the PACE of Americans. In the airport I was shocked at how much information people were attempting to digest all at once-- ipod, reading, watching the news. I do not believe that all those can be done well at once, but there were many people trying!
I was amazed at my zen like patience with travel. I do not need to be constantly entertained anymore. I can sit through an 18 hr trip from Dhaka to Philly and barely notice that time has gone by. This was a surprise. I am less easily frustrated here when things do not go as expected. My sense of time and dates and being late is definately still Bengali style. It has kept me from feeling stressed out, I've just been going with the flow, visiting all my favorite people who I love... and I've been enjoying American food--pizza, fries, cold drinks, summer cookouts. Lake Michigan is still there and beautiful, and I've especially loved being able to go for a run and not get harassed, stared at, commented upon...barely noticed even. That is a good feeling. It is great not to feel like a celebrity anymore. I've been cooking alot, baking some, taking long walks. Noticing things. Life is good. I have a different sense of what America is like, because I have new eyes through which to see it. I do not fear forgetting this past year with all the adventures, learnings and amazing people, I am excited to see how it will shape the future.
In about 2 weeks I begin the Mdiv/MSW program at Western Seminary in Holland, MI. I am excited to learn about Theology, Ministry and Social Work. I am looking forward to becoming part of the seminary community.
I don't think I'll be blogging like this anymore..I'll be writing in other ways maybe electronically, maybe not. We'll see.
For now, it is just really good to be home.
Peace to you all.
Cicely
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
because i don't feel like packing
Random 8
Rebs JH tagged me-good thing I read her blog, b/c she didn't tell me she tagged me. (normally I don't do these things...or respond to forwards that promise 7 years of good luck and weight loss if you send it to 89,000 other people) Now that we're clear that I NEVER do this here are my random facts.
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
---------------------
1. Currently reading, "The Alchemist" by Paul Coelho. Just finished, " The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy, "The Namesake" by Jhumpa Lahiri ( and I hear there is a movie based on this book, which I want to see)
and "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini --I've had a ton of time to read in Bangladesh and have discoverd some new authors from Asia. I've also enjoyed reading stories that are set in Muslim countries. I have had a new level of understanding and while reading and can picture exactly what the authors are describing and some of the words are the same as some Bangla words, they all have roots in sanskrit. It's pretty cool.
2. I am in love with Convents. I don't know if this will ever go away. You should go to one sometime. Don't try to "do" anything while you are there. Just go.
3. I only got to see the Taj Mahal for 3 Minutes last week. Ask me to tell you the story later.
4. I am a stomach sleeper. I hear this is bad for your back. It doesn't seem to be bad for mine. and I only have a one inch matress and a pillow as hard as a brick right now.
5. Last week one of my highlights from India was seeing Sikh's (the ones with turbans that never cut their hair and that carry swords) making music at the Golden Temple, with instruments I have never seen before, singing in an otherworldly way.
6. I am a member of the Traveling Shirt Club. But the Traveling Shirt never made it to Bangladesh. (beth tried though, it's waiting for me in PA :) )
7. I once made all my housemates dance to Ace of Bace's "I saw the Sign" (which found its way onto the House CD)
8. A conversation with a shop owner vying for my attention, in India (he was following us and being pesky) Man: Hello. Me: Hello. (picking up the pace and trying to look intent on something) Man: Where are you from? Me: Turkey. Man: I want to talk with you. Me: I do not have time to talk with you. Man: Do you mind? Me: Yes, I mind. (walking even faster) Man: "I have no mind." Me: uprorious laughter.
I am tagging: Miriam, Alaina, Reba, Robin and Emily...
Rebs JH tagged me-good thing I read her blog, b/c she didn't tell me she tagged me. (normally I don't do these things...or respond to forwards that promise 7 years of good luck and weight loss if you send it to 89,000 other people) Now that we're clear that I NEVER do this here are my random facts.
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
---------------------
1. Currently reading, "The Alchemist" by Paul Coelho. Just finished, " The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy, "The Namesake" by Jhumpa Lahiri ( and I hear there is a movie based on this book, which I want to see)
and "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini --I've had a ton of time to read in Bangladesh and have discoverd some new authors from Asia. I've also enjoyed reading stories that are set in Muslim countries. I have had a new level of understanding and while reading and can picture exactly what the authors are describing and some of the words are the same as some Bangla words, they all have roots in sanskrit. It's pretty cool.
2. I am in love with Convents. I don't know if this will ever go away. You should go to one sometime. Don't try to "do" anything while you are there. Just go.
3. I only got to see the Taj Mahal for 3 Minutes last week. Ask me to tell you the story later.
4. I am a stomach sleeper. I hear this is bad for your back. It doesn't seem to be bad for mine. and I only have a one inch matress and a pillow as hard as a brick right now.
5. Last week one of my highlights from India was seeing Sikh's (the ones with turbans that never cut their hair and that carry swords) making music at the Golden Temple, with instruments I have never seen before, singing in an otherworldly way.
6. I am a member of the Traveling Shirt Club. But the Traveling Shirt never made it to Bangladesh. (beth tried though, it's waiting for me in PA :) )
7. I once made all my housemates dance to Ace of Bace's "I saw the Sign" (which found its way onto the House CD)
8. A conversation with a shop owner vying for my attention, in India (he was following us and being pesky) Man: Hello. Me: Hello. (picking up the pace and trying to look intent on something) Man: Where are you from? Me: Turkey. Man: I want to talk with you. Me: I do not have time to talk with you. Man: Do you mind? Me: Yes, I mind. (walking even faster) Man: "I have no mind." Me: uprorious laughter.
I am tagging: Miriam, Alaina, Reba, Robin and Emily...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
a few words
back from india....too exhausted to say much of anything but here are a few words and phrases to describe the last few weeks and the transition i am anticipating in coming home.
-amazed and the dance of differences between cultures..india and bangladesh.
-wondering if I'll ever be able to speak and write in english without so many spelling and grammar errors. even though i've been teaching english...i forget a lot of which phrases people use, how to spell words, how to use prepositions (my brother, a member of the grammar police will not be happy about this and will have all kinds of fun correcting me at first i am sure) what is normal to say, what american english sounds like--i haven't been in a room full of white americans in a loooong time.
-mmm. dosas. need to find a place in GR with Dosas.
-happy about coming home, not looking forward to saying goodbye to the Sisters and the kids at the mission.
-ugh. packing. how did i accumulate so much crap?
-i am SO ready not to be stared at and commented upon all the time.
-wondering how i'll be different. i don't know yet.
-thinking about how i can come back in the future for a visit.
-not wanting to leave the pace of Bangladeshi life behind. Don't want to get too busy. still want to drink cha and have lots of conversations with nobody looking at the clock. i'm still not going to wear a watch.
-looking forward to lake michigan...
-can't wait to see my friends.
-dark chocolate and red wine, on the harambee sunporch with katie and miriam, andrew and ruth..(as well as any other former members of harambee) listening to music sounds fantastic. or any of the above elements.
-happy alaina gets to pick me up in Philly. we also are going to have dark chocolate and red wine.
-thinking i will miss conversations that go like this: me, showing up somewhere: "hello." other person. "hello. do you want to come inside?". Me: "yes." other person. "okay, come in, have tea, have lunch." (that was at L'arche in Kolkata...)
-i really don't like transitions, but also trying to keep an open mind about this one.
-i might be socially awkward--which will probably be funny. hopefully to other people as well as myself.
-yikes. i have only a month and a little bit before I start school at Western Seminary. (not thinking about all the things yet that have to get done before then.)
-can't wait to see my grandma, other family members...and celebrate her 83rd birthday in ohio...
-yes. no open sewers, that i accidently fall in.
-mmm. real coffee. its amazing what you learn to do without.
-feels strange and makes me sad that i am leaving....and get to have my freedom back, while so many women here will never get a chance to know what that is like.
-feeling much less cynical. must be the blissful nostalgia taking over.
-wondering what this year will mean to me in the future.
-will miss each morning the sight of men holding babies...as they brush their teeth and watch the traffic go by..
-i'll miss the sisters a lot.
-i won't miss the humidity.
-will not miss these questions and phrases from random people on the street: "what is your country?" "do you speak bangla?" "i would like to introduce with you" "i would like to marry you and come to america" "hey sexy" (and worse, not appropriate for the blogger audience.) "are you married?" "why aren't you married?" "do you ever want to get married" (why do random people care about this?!) "my brother lives in america" (everyone's brother lives in america or the UK)
-i should be getting on another bus to mymensingh. a little sick at the moment....waiting it out.
-using water from the tap seems extravagant. (how do you spell that?)
-what will look super weird when i come back? what will i notice?
ah, another 10 days......
peace to you all....
Cicely
-amazed and the dance of differences between cultures..india and bangladesh.
-wondering if I'll ever be able to speak and write in english without so many spelling and grammar errors. even though i've been teaching english...i forget a lot of which phrases people use, how to spell words, how to use prepositions (my brother, a member of the grammar police will not be happy about this and will have all kinds of fun correcting me at first i am sure) what is normal to say, what american english sounds like--i haven't been in a room full of white americans in a loooong time.
-mmm. dosas. need to find a place in GR with Dosas.
-happy about coming home, not looking forward to saying goodbye to the Sisters and the kids at the mission.
-ugh. packing. how did i accumulate so much crap?
-i am SO ready not to be stared at and commented upon all the time.
-wondering how i'll be different. i don't know yet.
-thinking about how i can come back in the future for a visit.
-not wanting to leave the pace of Bangladeshi life behind. Don't want to get too busy. still want to drink cha and have lots of conversations with nobody looking at the clock. i'm still not going to wear a watch.
-looking forward to lake michigan...
-can't wait to see my friends.
-dark chocolate and red wine, on the harambee sunporch with katie and miriam, andrew and ruth..(as well as any other former members of harambee) listening to music sounds fantastic. or any of the above elements.
-happy alaina gets to pick me up in Philly. we also are going to have dark chocolate and red wine.
-thinking i will miss conversations that go like this: me, showing up somewhere: "hello." other person. "hello. do you want to come inside?". Me: "yes." other person. "okay, come in, have tea, have lunch." (that was at L'arche in Kolkata...)
-i really don't like transitions, but also trying to keep an open mind about this one.
-i might be socially awkward--which will probably be funny. hopefully to other people as well as myself.
-yikes. i have only a month and a little bit before I start school at Western Seminary. (not thinking about all the things yet that have to get done before then.)
-can't wait to see my grandma, other family members...and celebrate her 83rd birthday in ohio...
-yes. no open sewers, that i accidently fall in.
-mmm. real coffee. its amazing what you learn to do without.
-feels strange and makes me sad that i am leaving....and get to have my freedom back, while so many women here will never get a chance to know what that is like.
-feeling much less cynical. must be the blissful nostalgia taking over.
-wondering what this year will mean to me in the future.
-will miss each morning the sight of men holding babies...as they brush their teeth and watch the traffic go by..
-i'll miss the sisters a lot.
-i won't miss the humidity.
-will not miss these questions and phrases from random people on the street: "what is your country?" "do you speak bangla?" "i would like to introduce with you" "i would like to marry you and come to america" "hey sexy" (and worse, not appropriate for the blogger audience.) "are you married?" "why aren't you married?" "do you ever want to get married" (why do random people care about this?!) "my brother lives in america" (everyone's brother lives in america or the UK)
-i should be getting on another bus to mymensingh. a little sick at the moment....waiting it out.
-using water from the tap seems extravagant. (how do you spell that?)
-what will look super weird when i come back? what will i notice?
ah, another 10 days......
peace to you all....
Cicely
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Old Dhaka...
A Harmonium in the making.
A nearly finished Harmonium.
Tabblas hanging from the ceiling.
Men making spice grinders.
The sky was so beautiful yesterday.
School boys stop for fuschka. Which also happens to be my favorite street food.
Beautiful women in saris move effortlessly through the streets.
On Hindu Street. When I first walked down this street 10 months ago, on my second day in Bangladesh, it completely overwhelmed me with all the stimuli. Now that I can speak some Bangla and know how to move without getting hit by a rickshaw it was a lot of fun yesterday. This street is really cool and feels so alive. Many instrument shops, jewelry shops, people hanging out drinking cha, Hindu temples. And we walked down it after it rained so it had a fresh cool feeling and the lighting was gorgeous.
a new little friend.
two new little friends.
Jackfruit, Bangladesh's national fruit
Carved conch shell bracelets. Wearing them on your wrists mean you are a married Hindu woman.
Lungis being delivered.
The streets in Old Dhaka are very narrow, and stacked high with shops, apartments, and people looking down on the busyness below.
Pink Palace. Very Colonial.
On Thursday I'll head to India; I'm looking forward to the trip.....
Monday, June 18, 2007
A Few Reflections For A Rainy Day...
My friend Alaina just told me I have only 33 days left in this place until I come back to the US. In some ways it feels like I just got here. I'm finally adjusted to life and I feel like I should stay because I've have established some roots and found Community here. Somehow I have learned to call this place home. In other ways it seems like this year would never end and I am breathing a sigh of relief that the time is almost here to go back to my own culture, friends and family. It's been a year like that...great and terrible...amazing and boring...intense while being laid back. It has produced unexpected reactions. It's hard for me to tell the story of Bangladesh yet.
One thing is for certain, after living in Bangladesh I won't be the same. I'm sure people who live in a developing country say this sort of thing all the time...but for me I think it will be true, or at least I hope it will be true. This year has produced more questions than answers about the way this life works, the nature of God and his relationship with us as human beings...the cycle of poverty and injustice. I came to Bangladesh wanting adventures and wanting to learn what life was like on the other side of the world. I wanted to shake up my theories of life. I wanted to remember why I cared about issues of justice. I wanted to get away from North America and hear the sounds on the other side of the world. I wanted to listen to the stories of those who were experiencing the things I only briefly skimmed over in the newspaper as I ate my cereal and downed a cup of coffee before rushing out the door in the morning.
My theories of life have been shaken up, but the more I am here, the more I am realizing that a place is a place is a place is a place is a place. People here are like people everywhere. Sure, it looks different; all the fruit shops with neatly arranged apples and hanging grapes, men sitting inside, beckoning me to come, "Sister, Sister, Asho..." The hundreds of colorfully decorated rickshaws on the roads, bells ringing, telling people to get out of the way, the women in Burkahs, hidden away in their own little black boxes. The smell of Hindu incense. The day laborers in their plaid lungis, shovels in hand, waiting to get picked up to go to work in an attempt to get some money so they can eat as well as feed their family. The amazing fabric and color combinations that take extrodinary imagination. The little kids right outside the Mission that I see everyday playing cricket-- daring eachother to say hello to me. The call to Prayer, whining, "Allah, Akbar" coming from the mosque next to the Mission, mixes with the Bell we use to remind us it is time to pray. On the surface it looks and smells and sounds different. Underneath all that, though, everyone's just trying to make ends meet. Babies are still being born and the sun is still coming up each day. Or at least we are all counting on those things.
And while I seem to have gotten used to life here, my experience as a single, not-terrible- looking, white, Western woman tells me that people, especially men, have not gotten used to me. I think this has been the hardest part. In Muslim culture, men are not supposed to look at women, they are not supposed touch women, they are not supposed to make comments to women. If a woman is not dressed modestly enough, if her orna does not cover her chest completely, it is her fault that she has drawn attention to herself and has invited inappropriate comments or the like. Segregation on buses and trains, in church, and around the table is normal. Men on one side, women on the other. Marriages are arranged by the parents.
My experience with the men in this place has been incredibly negative. They think that I, as a woman from the US am like the movie stars they watch on their dish network TV, wanting sex with any random man all the time, anytime. They think that it is somehow appropriate to yell sexual comments in my direction, grope me in crowded markets, hiss and leer at me while I walk down the road. They take pictures of me using their mobile phone cameras. It pisses me off.
Here, women are not respected, they are cooped up in their homes, cooking and cleaning, they get locked inside by their husbands. They do not have much say in their career choice, if they get to have one at all. They are forced to wear burkahs and baggy salwar kameezes to hide their curves, to prevent men, besides their husbands, from becoming attracted to them. Women are paid less for the same work, they are not seen outside in tea shops. There aren't even women's bathrooms anywhere. Many young women are married off at the age of fourteen or fifteen. This is their reality. They do not have a voice.
Obviously, my own experience has been dramatically different, growing up in the US. I can celebrate being a woman with a body that looks like a woman's body, I can choose how I spend my time, I can choose if I marry or not, I can study things I am interested in, I can stay out late with friends listening to music without being seen as a "woman of the night", and (gasp) I can even have male friends. It is hard to explain these differences to people here who just have no context to understand it.
Living with the Sisters has been a good good thing this year. These are women who have decided not to marry. They get to travel the world. They are proud to be women. They have made a decision to serve God and humanity with all they have. They take a vow of Poverty, Obedience and Chastity. They live in Community with eachother so well. They take care of orphans and widows and teach poor kids how to read. They do it with out a hint of pride. And if they knew I was saying all this they would be very embarassed. They have become my best friends this year. It's taken time and many adjustments on everyone's part; and as the Scale of Time is tipping in Home's direction, I am becoming more aware that I will miss them and will have to come back at some future point. They already made me promise I would, actually. I have learned from them how to show hospitality and what kindness to strangers looks like. I have been able to ask questions about how to continually have compassion and not burn out (their continuous answer: prayer), how to love those who seem unloveable...... All while having fun and laughing alot, and not taking themselves too seriously.
33 days....
One thing is for certain, after living in Bangladesh I won't be the same. I'm sure people who live in a developing country say this sort of thing all the time...but for me I think it will be true, or at least I hope it will be true. This year has produced more questions than answers about the way this life works, the nature of God and his relationship with us as human beings...the cycle of poverty and injustice. I came to Bangladesh wanting adventures and wanting to learn what life was like on the other side of the world. I wanted to shake up my theories of life. I wanted to remember why I cared about issues of justice. I wanted to get away from North America and hear the sounds on the other side of the world. I wanted to listen to the stories of those who were experiencing the things I only briefly skimmed over in the newspaper as I ate my cereal and downed a cup of coffee before rushing out the door in the morning.
My theories of life have been shaken up, but the more I am here, the more I am realizing that a place is a place is a place is a place is a place. People here are like people everywhere. Sure, it looks different; all the fruit shops with neatly arranged apples and hanging grapes, men sitting inside, beckoning me to come, "Sister, Sister, Asho..." The hundreds of colorfully decorated rickshaws on the roads, bells ringing, telling people to get out of the way, the women in Burkahs, hidden away in their own little black boxes. The smell of Hindu incense. The day laborers in their plaid lungis, shovels in hand, waiting to get picked up to go to work in an attempt to get some money so they can eat as well as feed their family. The amazing fabric and color combinations that take extrodinary imagination. The little kids right outside the Mission that I see everyday playing cricket-- daring eachother to say hello to me. The call to Prayer, whining, "Allah, Akbar" coming from the mosque next to the Mission, mixes with the Bell we use to remind us it is time to pray. On the surface it looks and smells and sounds different. Underneath all that, though, everyone's just trying to make ends meet. Babies are still being born and the sun is still coming up each day. Or at least we are all counting on those things.
And while I seem to have gotten used to life here, my experience as a single, not-terrible- looking, white, Western woman tells me that people, especially men, have not gotten used to me. I think this has been the hardest part. In Muslim culture, men are not supposed to look at women, they are not supposed touch women, they are not supposed to make comments to women. If a woman is not dressed modestly enough, if her orna does not cover her chest completely, it is her fault that she has drawn attention to herself and has invited inappropriate comments or the like. Segregation on buses and trains, in church, and around the table is normal. Men on one side, women on the other. Marriages are arranged by the parents.
My experience with the men in this place has been incredibly negative. They think that I, as a woman from the US am like the movie stars they watch on their dish network TV, wanting sex with any random man all the time, anytime. They think that it is somehow appropriate to yell sexual comments in my direction, grope me in crowded markets, hiss and leer at me while I walk down the road. They take pictures of me using their mobile phone cameras. It pisses me off.
Here, women are not respected, they are cooped up in their homes, cooking and cleaning, they get locked inside by their husbands. They do not have much say in their career choice, if they get to have one at all. They are forced to wear burkahs and baggy salwar kameezes to hide their curves, to prevent men, besides their husbands, from becoming attracted to them. Women are paid less for the same work, they are not seen outside in tea shops. There aren't even women's bathrooms anywhere. Many young women are married off at the age of fourteen or fifteen. This is their reality. They do not have a voice.
Obviously, my own experience has been dramatically different, growing up in the US. I can celebrate being a woman with a body that looks like a woman's body, I can choose how I spend my time, I can choose if I marry or not, I can study things I am interested in, I can stay out late with friends listening to music without being seen as a "woman of the night", and (gasp) I can even have male friends. It is hard to explain these differences to people here who just have no context to understand it.
Living with the Sisters has been a good good thing this year. These are women who have decided not to marry. They get to travel the world. They are proud to be women. They have made a decision to serve God and humanity with all they have. They take a vow of Poverty, Obedience and Chastity. They live in Community with eachother so well. They take care of orphans and widows and teach poor kids how to read. They do it with out a hint of pride. And if they knew I was saying all this they would be very embarassed. They have become my best friends this year. It's taken time and many adjustments on everyone's part; and as the Scale of Time is tipping in Home's direction, I am becoming more aware that I will miss them and will have to come back at some future point. They already made me promise I would, actually. I have learned from them how to show hospitality and what kindness to strangers looks like. I have been able to ask questions about how to continually have compassion and not burn out (their continuous answer: prayer), how to love those who seem unloveable...... All while having fun and laughing alot, and not taking themselves too seriously.
33 days....
Thursday, June 14, 2007
and i just have to say
that somehow my blogger account turned from english to chinese. it's all in characters. i have no idea where anything is or how to change it back. i do not read chinese. and i don't exactly want to learn for the sake of this blog account.
help?
and why chinese and not bangla? i feel like i'm in alice in wonderland, digitally.
help?
and why chinese and not bangla? i feel like i'm in alice in wonderland, digitally.
Around Mymensingh
This is Rico and I. I am never quite sure if he is going to kiss me or bite me. He has epilepsy, so he is really strong from having so many seizures and tightening up his muscles. He enjoys going for walks and is really sweet.
yes, I took a rickshaw in this....
Russel and Elenor by the river. Elenor lives and works with the boys at Ashinir. She's great and it's been good talking with her lately. I've been spending time at L'arche teaching english to some of the voluteers as well as just hanging out. Bangladeshis are good at relaxing. There is always time for tea...too much rushing around drives me crazy after a while, it's nice to not need much planning over here and have ample time to chat and relax. I think I will be pretty surprised about the pace of American life when I come back.
I've been teaching some of the sisters how to type and use the computer. Two of them are heading to the Philipines to start a community there, and are trying to learn as much as they can before they go. I remember when we got our first computer, but it's hard to imagine not knowing how to use one, as well as where to start teaching them. Yesterday we started with how to turn it on. That's as good as anything, I guess.
This morning I went over to the Monastary for prayers, I hadn't been there yet, so Sister Florence invited me to go with her. A different order of Sisters, Carmelites, live there. Only 2 go outside. The rest stay hidden away. During prayers this morning there was a wall separating them from the rest of the Sisters (and me)...they sing really nicely, and someone plays the viola, but I have no idea what they look like.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Weekends in Dhaka...
Rain...rain....more rain lately. the thunderstorms are amazing. The other night Reba and I were on our way back to the guest house in a CNG (golf cart like thingie) and water from the road was up to the floor boards and seeping through the roof! it was a riot. Later, the rain was so strong I just took a shower in it on the roof top.
MCC women: Reba, Ethel, yours truly
Me, Alana...at her goodbye party...Alana has been working for CRWRC for 4 years and is heading home to the US around the same time as me. It's been fun playing a bit of Dutch Bingo with her this year. She had a farewell-you-must-wear-a-sari-party. fun was had by all. good hummus too. Weekends in Dhaka are nice. They are relaxing, and usually contain not eating white rice, going to coffee shops. (we just found one w/ good coffee AND good music), going grocery shopping for things Mymensingh doesn't have, meeting up with Dhaka friends, seeing fellow MCCers, and sleeping in an AC room.
This weekend Reba and I got Mehendi (Henna) done, and I pierced my other nostril. so now I can wear a giant gold hoop from one to the other.
ha ha, just kidding. I did pierce my ear again though.
At the salon there were many brides to be getting all painted up, wearing gorgeous saris, with sequins and elaborate beading. There are many many workers at the salon. And haircutting is done by the lower classes. They really only have two styles here: Long and longer. Being foreigners, we sort of drew a crowd, especially when I was freaking out a little about my ear piercing, but what else is new?
I am listening to the rain, and trying to finish this before the current goes out again.
peace to you all....
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
People around the Mission
My little friends from the orphanage. I started a mini PE class.... running around and playing games together. They leave today, and it makes me sad...
Beautiful... 
L to R: Sister Mala, a teacher, Sister Shilpi, and in front, Sister Rosie. These 3 sisters have become good friends.
Sister Rosie with 3 women who work as teacher aids.Sunday, June 03, 2007
Ms. Nath's advice
My language teacher, Ms. Nath, told me three things when I first arrived in Bangladesh.
1. Don't talk to boys
2. Don't chew pan
3. Don't go the theater
Before she gave me advice #s 1 and 2, I had already done them both, with in the first 3 days of arriving. Talking to "boys.." generally a bad idea unless you know them through a family or friend. They will end up calling your mobile incessantly, and have all sorts of ideas about you as a western woman, before they even take the time to get to know you. You will end up being a piece of prestigious arm candy that they can show their friends. It's true, I am not being unreasonably harsh. Talking to random boys in the park= bad idea.
Pan.....is a leaf with a betel nut inside. You use a bit of lime paste to make the leaf and nut react to eachother. People chew it like tobacco. It's pretty addictive, apparently, and stains your teeth red. I tried it on my 2nd day here, and one time was enough for me. There was a large crowd of men watching me stuff it in my mouth (I have never chewed tobacco, I have no idea how this works) and then my mouth went numb and I started drooling and spitting it out. gross.
Going to the theater. Until yesterday, I had abided by that piece of advice. But I was curious, and so was my friend Reba, so we decided to go and check it out. We arrived and were shown into the "ladies waiting room." Two other women were waiting for the movie to start. Finally the movie was going to begin so a man escorted us up 4 flights of stairs to a tiny seating section in the upper left corner of the theater. This was where women sat, I assumed. The movie began, on using reel to reel. I looked down and could see through the floor boards. My chair was swallowing me and wouldn't stay unfolded.
The movie contained several bad guys, shooting innocent people who ended up ooozing with fake blood. The women were helpless damsils in distress wearing "scandelous" (by bangladeshi standards) clothing, batting their eyes at these beefy men. Several Hindi movie esqu dance scenes came out of nowhere. There was a hanging seen. Lots of Bengali style camera"zooming" in and out to capture the contorted reactions of people watching their friends get hung or shot. More fake blood. More beefy men rescuing the women. More bad costumes. It was entertaining...for the first hour.
After the First hour, they had to change the reel, and a Coca-Cola vendor came around saying, "tanda!" (cold!) I wanted a cold drink, so I bought a coke in a glass bottle to enjoy during the movie. I paid using a 100 taka note. It cost 20, so I needed 80 back. Apparently they wanted me to drink it really fast and give them the bottle back. So I gulped it down while the vendor watched and then I asked for my change. Over the next hour, my change came to me via several different men and a little boy in incriments of 10 takas. It was amusing.
After I finally got my change, I asked the lady next to me how much longer the movie would be. Thinking it had to be over soon. She said it was at least another hour until it was finished. I nudged Reba and asked her what she was thinking about leaving or staying... and we decided to go Sari shopping instead.
Overall, not a bad experience. Didn't get hurt or mugged. It smelled a little, there were no women's bathrooms, it was old and dusty...not unlike many other things in Bangladesh. Shamosha nae. No problem.
1. Don't talk to boys
2. Don't chew pan
3. Don't go the theater
Before she gave me advice #s 1 and 2, I had already done them both, with in the first 3 days of arriving. Talking to "boys.." generally a bad idea unless you know them through a family or friend. They will end up calling your mobile incessantly, and have all sorts of ideas about you as a western woman, before they even take the time to get to know you. You will end up being a piece of prestigious arm candy that they can show their friends. It's true, I am not being unreasonably harsh. Talking to random boys in the park= bad idea.
Pan.....is a leaf with a betel nut inside. You use a bit of lime paste to make the leaf and nut react to eachother. People chew it like tobacco. It's pretty addictive, apparently, and stains your teeth red. I tried it on my 2nd day here, and one time was enough for me. There was a large crowd of men watching me stuff it in my mouth (I have never chewed tobacco, I have no idea how this works) and then my mouth went numb and I started drooling and spitting it out. gross.
Going to the theater. Until yesterday, I had abided by that piece of advice. But I was curious, and so was my friend Reba, so we decided to go and check it out. We arrived and were shown into the "ladies waiting room." Two other women were waiting for the movie to start. Finally the movie was going to begin so a man escorted us up 4 flights of stairs to a tiny seating section in the upper left corner of the theater. This was where women sat, I assumed. The movie began, on using reel to reel. I looked down and could see through the floor boards. My chair was swallowing me and wouldn't stay unfolded.
The movie contained several bad guys, shooting innocent people who ended up ooozing with fake blood. The women were helpless damsils in distress wearing "scandelous" (by bangladeshi standards) clothing, batting their eyes at these beefy men. Several Hindi movie esqu dance scenes came out of nowhere. There was a hanging seen. Lots of Bengali style camera"zooming" in and out to capture the contorted reactions of people watching their friends get hung or shot. More fake blood. More beefy men rescuing the women. More bad costumes. It was entertaining...for the first hour.
After the First hour, they had to change the reel, and a Coca-Cola vendor came around saying, "tanda!" (cold!) I wanted a cold drink, so I bought a coke in a glass bottle to enjoy during the movie. I paid using a 100 taka note. It cost 20, so I needed 80 back. Apparently they wanted me to drink it really fast and give them the bottle back. So I gulped it down while the vendor watched and then I asked for my change. Over the next hour, my change came to me via several different men and a little boy in incriments of 10 takas. It was amusing.
After I finally got my change, I asked the lady next to me how much longer the movie would be. Thinking it had to be over soon. She said it was at least another hour until it was finished. I nudged Reba and asked her what she was thinking about leaving or staying... and we decided to go Sari shopping instead.
Overall, not a bad experience. Didn't get hurt or mugged. It smelled a little, there were no women's bathrooms, it was old and dusty...not unlike many other things in Bangladesh. Shamosha nae. No problem.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Changes.
Yesterday, I spent all afternoon baking chocolate cakes for the aspirant sisters/my student's farewell tea party. Let me tell you a little bit about baking in Bangladesh.
a.) nobody does it.
b.)ovens are scarce--they use electricity, something that we don't always have here.
c.)even if they do bake and have an oven, they do it in the morning; it's much too hot in the afternoon to be stuck in a hot kitchen.
of course, being the procrastinator that I can be, but try not to be, I decided to bake in the middle of the afternoon, 3 hours before the party. Just as I was beginning to put all the ingredients into the bowl, and was figuring out the correct measurements for quadrupling the recipe (there are a lot of people at the mission), the power goes out. This poses 2 problems. 1.) no electricity for the oven. and 2.) no fans which makes it unbearably hot with no air circulation (and makes me start sweating immediately.) I ignore 1. and 2. and I keep mixing the ingredients, saying a prayer that the power will come back in time for me to get these cakes in the oven. With the help of Sister Supina and the watchful eyes of 3 other sisters who asked all sorts of questions about baking, I managed to mix all the ingredients into a huge bowl, and it looked and tasted like chocolate cake batter. (Grandma, you'd be proud. (I am really looking forward to your choc. cake in a couple months) Just as we were finished mixing, the power came back, as I was hoping it would. The oven is small and only one cake can fit in it at a time, so I put the biggest one in and guessed how much time it will need as well as the temp. because it was in Celcius.
Skip ahead 3 hours. The cakes are all done, look delicious, the table's set and all my students and all the sisters have gathered to say goodbye. We ate and chatted. Apparently chocolate cake is a very special food that they almost never eat, so I chose the right one to bake. Everyone marveled at how delicious it was. I breathed a sigh of relief that it all worked out, and promised that I would teach Sister Agnes how to bake one before I leave.
As we are getting towards the end of the party it is time to give speeches. This is something that I have gotten used to at gatherings and parties. People always nominate other people to either a.)sing a song or b.) give a speech. Several of the sisters gave speeches. Then of course, I as the teacher was asked to say a few words. Almost immediately I started to get all teary--Sister Rosie was laughing b/c I was the 3rd person to start crying in the last 17 minutes. I pulled it together and told the Sisters and my students that I would miss them a lot and that though I was their teacher I was also their student and they taught me about how to show hospitality and what kindness looks like. I told the Sisters that they were lucky to continue to have relationships with my students, as I was leaving soon and would no longer be able to see them regularly. I thanked them for their hard work and also told them not to forget how to use the present continuous tense, which made everyone laugh nervously--b/c I am almost sure that they never learned it in the first place.
To round out the time, and to make it ceremonial, Sister Florence gave each aspirant sister a coconut shell with oil and a wick. I had taught them the song "Give me oil in my lamp" so as I lit the student's wicks we sang that song. (side note: I taught them the pentecostal version which exclaims, "hallelujah!" at every possible second which made it slightly awkward and funny).
We made our way, candles in hand to the chapel, and put the candles on the altar. Then we said the Lord's Prayer together.
----
this morning as the sun and humidity were rising, all the sisters and I waved good bye to them.
a.) nobody does it.
b.)ovens are scarce--they use electricity, something that we don't always have here.
c.)even if they do bake and have an oven, they do it in the morning; it's much too hot in the afternoon to be stuck in a hot kitchen.
of course, being the procrastinator that I can be, but try not to be, I decided to bake in the middle of the afternoon, 3 hours before the party. Just as I was beginning to put all the ingredients into the bowl, and was figuring out the correct measurements for quadrupling the recipe (there are a lot of people at the mission), the power goes out. This poses 2 problems. 1.) no electricity for the oven. and 2.) no fans which makes it unbearably hot with no air circulation (and makes me start sweating immediately.) I ignore 1. and 2. and I keep mixing the ingredients, saying a prayer that the power will come back in time for me to get these cakes in the oven. With the help of Sister Supina and the watchful eyes of 3 other sisters who asked all sorts of questions about baking, I managed to mix all the ingredients into a huge bowl, and it looked and tasted like chocolate cake batter. (Grandma, you'd be proud. (I am really looking forward to your choc. cake in a couple months) Just as we were finished mixing, the power came back, as I was hoping it would. The oven is small and only one cake can fit in it at a time, so I put the biggest one in and guessed how much time it will need as well as the temp. because it was in Celcius.
Skip ahead 3 hours. The cakes are all done, look delicious, the table's set and all my students and all the sisters have gathered to say goodbye. We ate and chatted. Apparently chocolate cake is a very special food that they almost never eat, so I chose the right one to bake. Everyone marveled at how delicious it was. I breathed a sigh of relief that it all worked out, and promised that I would teach Sister Agnes how to bake one before I leave.
As we are getting towards the end of the party it is time to give speeches. This is something that I have gotten used to at gatherings and parties. People always nominate other people to either a.)sing a song or b.) give a speech. Several of the sisters gave speeches. Then of course, I as the teacher was asked to say a few words. Almost immediately I started to get all teary--Sister Rosie was laughing b/c I was the 3rd person to start crying in the last 17 minutes. I pulled it together and told the Sisters and my students that I would miss them a lot and that though I was their teacher I was also their student and they taught me about how to show hospitality and what kindness looks like. I told the Sisters that they were lucky to continue to have relationships with my students, as I was leaving soon and would no longer be able to see them regularly. I thanked them for their hard work and also told them not to forget how to use the present continuous tense, which made everyone laugh nervously--b/c I am almost sure that they never learned it in the first place.
To round out the time, and to make it ceremonial, Sister Florence gave each aspirant sister a coconut shell with oil and a wick. I had taught them the song "Give me oil in my lamp" so as I lit the student's wicks we sang that song. (side note: I taught them the pentecostal version which exclaims, "hallelujah!" at every possible second which made it slightly awkward and funny).
We made our way, candles in hand to the chapel, and put the candles on the altar. Then we said the Lord's Prayer together.
----
this morning as the sun and humidity were rising, all the sisters and I waved good bye to them.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
At Holy Family Primary School
Me, feeling like a GIANT in the sea of little children. That is one of my favorite salwar kameez...i still hate the orna.
the little girl on my direct left (shaved head) invited me over to her house on sunday! I will go with one of the sisters to see her and meet her family. They were so excited to have their picture taken.
Kids are Cute and Wiggly..and some thoughts about education
The last couple of mornings I've visited my friends, Sister Rosie and Sister Meeta's classrooms and told their classes a bit about myself and about the US. It's been fun. Kids everywhere are so wiggly and squirmy and darn cute. They had a bazillion questions for me. Things from my favorite food to how I like Bangladesh to if my brother was younger or older than me. The Mission school is right on the Convent Campus, and kids from the nearby neighborhood attend the school. It is hard to get into this school, and is known for being one of the best in Mymensingh. Each classroom has over 70 kids in them, and one teacher. It's the end of the year so the kids are taking their tests. Each of them have one piece of paper, a pencil and a small sheet of paper with the test questions on it. They sit crammed together on benches and desks. My own education is something that I've definately taken for granted. I grew up going to Christian schools and went to a really good College. Education was accessible, and I knew that each year I would go to a new grade, my parents would support me and eventually would get a degree if I did all the needed work. Not only that, but I got a chance to learn music, be on sports teams, learn computer skills, as well as take fun classes at Calvin like canoeing... Simple, right? From that education, I now know how to ask questions and how to learn on my own and how to think critically and independently. Those were highly valued qualities of my Western education. Bangladesh's educational system relies heavily on memorization and does not encourage critical thinking. They study and take tests. The parents choose what career their child will have.
It has been a challenge to teach my classes, using how I was taught, and how I like to learn--self directed and participatory, while taking into consideration how they are accustomed to learning--when their values of showing respect for the teacher and not talking in class are higher than I am used to. (it was really nice not to have ANY behavior problems!) It took a long time to draw them out and get them to think things through and feel comfortable enough to ask and answer questions. I gave a test a couple of days ago and a few students did not understand one section, but instead of asking, they just left the entire section blank! I even asked if there were questions....It is hard not to place a judgement on the Bengali educational system. I do think it's important to know how to think and make choices...and do not think memorizing and taking tests are the best ways to teach or learn. But then am I imposing my Western ideas upon Eastern students? Is that right? And just because my country of US is "developed" and Bangladesh is "developing" does that make one way better than the other? I try to keep an open mind about most things here, but lately I am finding myself not only appreciating but agreeing with the structural ways I grew up and I think it is more than familiarity and comfort... (of course there are many things that bengalis do well and better than americans, i will write about that later perhaps.)
It has been a challenge to teach my classes, using how I was taught, and how I like to learn--self directed and participatory, while taking into consideration how they are accustomed to learning--when their values of showing respect for the teacher and not talking in class are higher than I am used to. (it was really nice not to have ANY behavior problems!) It took a long time to draw them out and get them to think things through and feel comfortable enough to ask and answer questions. I gave a test a couple of days ago and a few students did not understand one section, but instead of asking, they just left the entire section blank! I even asked if there were questions....It is hard not to place a judgement on the Bengali educational system. I do think it's important to know how to think and make choices...and do not think memorizing and taking tests are the best ways to teach or learn. But then am I imposing my Western ideas upon Eastern students? Is that right? And just because my country of US is "developed" and Bangladesh is "developing" does that make one way better than the other? I try to keep an open mind about most things here, but lately I am finding myself not only appreciating but agreeing with the structural ways I grew up and I think it is more than familiarity and comfort... (of course there are many things that bengalis do well and better than americans, i will write about that later perhaps.)
Sunday, May 27, 2007
A day in my life....
Life at the Mission is peaceful and slow moving. Yesterday, I woke up at 5:45am, naturally. (yes, for those of you who know me well, this is a small miracle, but I have been waking up cheerfully before 6am for the last couple of months and can't sleep anymore) I decided to go running around the convent. They have a small field area near the school. The whole convent is walled off and they have many different cement buildings built around the 1930s. It's a really beautiful campus with many flowers, palm trees and gardens.
I wear running pants (even though it is like 82 degrees in the mornings) and an old kameze top that comes to my knees, but no orna--the scarf that covers my chest for modesty's sake--because only women are in the convent. I also listen to my mp3 player while running. I don't really like using it b/c all the albums are mixed up. Somehow all the songs got loaded in alphabetical order. But if you think of it sort of like a music quiz show, and try to name the artist real fast, then it's alright. Anyways. I was running around in circles, listening to music, Alicia Keys at this point I believe, and noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Two little girls from the orphanage were up, and were running 30 feet behind me, giggling to eachother. I motioned for them to come closer, and the three of us ran together. They took turns listening to my music as well. Once we all were sufficiently sweaty, I led some goofy stretching exercises....I guess I'll never be rid of my camp roger experience or recreation major. Then we walked back to the convent for breakfast.
I ate my normal breakfast of Chapati and egg. Drank good coffee from Thailand with my own special filtering system. The sisters always remark, "oh, I see you are cooking your coffee again." I was just finishing my 4th glass of water, when a priest walked in an announced, "this is my last coffee time with the sisters before leaving for America!" He had gotten a visa and was leaving for America, New Jersey, specifically, in four days. He was giddy with excitement. I sat down with him and chatted about what it was like to live in America. He had all sorts of questions about funerals, since he was going to be in charge of burying people, among other things at his parish. It was fun to chat with him about my own culture. I forgot just how many questions someone going there for the first time might have. He was concerned about being cold. I told him he would be cold, but just to bring a heavy jacket and he'd be fine. I don't know if he believed me.
I had my normal 9am class with the aspirant sisters. I have been teaching my students many songs this year. I did not really feel like doing work at this point, and they did not feel like doing work, so I taught them two new songs instead. I taught them the O bro where art thou? song, "I went down in the river to pray" as well as "Amazing Grace. " I've attempted to teach them some harmonies this year, but it is very hard to teach Western harmonies to people used to singing Eastern melodies. And since my guitar learning did not take off as I'd like it too, and since I don't have my violin to produce melodies and harmonies here....I have my voice, and my memory to teach with. I can hear the harmonies, but they of course, cannot.... We've really tried though. :)
After class, tea, of course. Lots of gossiping with the sisters who all gather together at 10am for tea. They also eat rice and vegetables at this time. They don't understand why I don't want to eat rice, but mostly, let me just sip my cha...while offering me rice a few times, (bangladeshi hospitality) which I continuously refuse.
Walk to my favorite internet cafe. On the way I buy my usual 7-UP from the same vendor, who sees me and knows what I will buy. Keep walking, wave hello to my tailor on the way.
It's super hot and humid, and for some reason, I decided to wear my long sleeved blue batik top with jeans. I am sweating in seconds. awesome. luckily (?) I can be a sweaty mess and do nothing to myself and everyone still marvels at my beauty and intelligence. I think I will be in for a wake up call once I come back to the States and not everyone thinks I am gorgeous and interesting.
I check email and facebook like a normal internet addict would.
Go back to the Mission for a lovely lunch of Rice and Vegetables. But yesterday we also were still eating my bannanna bread, which was a nice surprise. After lunch, I go upstairs to my room and begin the book "God of Small things." I read for a little while, take a little nap. Go downstairs after a while, and talk with Sister Francis for a bit about Geography. Sister Francis is awesome. She's in her 70s, I'd guess, is funny, smart, and loves learning. Especially about people and places and how to pronounce English words. I chat with her until it's time for my 3pm class.
My 3pm class is with the same students, so we practice our new songs, as well as some older ones. I am amazed at their memories. I give them time to study for the exam I am giving. I ask them some questions in English, to get them to talk a bit, and then to round out one of our last classes together we play "hangman." Not very Pacifist, I know. If you have any alternatives, I'm all ears.
4pm. More tea with all the sisters gathering around the table. They again are eating rice. I am again refusing. Not too politely though, or they will not take me seriously. Some of the sisters are also eating Corn on the Cob. Since I grew up on a vegetable farm, and know my corn on the cob pretty well, I was super excited to have my first ear of the season right then and there. I take my first bite. It tastes like field corn. It's terribly chewy, not sweet, and really hard to chew. (Why did I expect Wiers Farm Corn? I don't know) But of course, I must finish it. By the end, my jaw hurts from chewing it so much. I wish I could give them some actual good sweet soft corn. Uncle John, want to send some seeds over here? :)
After corn on the cob, Sister Francis and I watch some BBC news together. She tells me her nose has diarria and laughs. (She has a runny nose)
Much to my delight my friend Alana, who works for CRWRC calls me and tells me she is in Mymensingh and asks if I have dinner plans. I meet up with her and Reba at Rom III, Mymensingh's little greasy spoon, for some naan and vegetables and curried hard boiled egg. At one point, Alana gets this look of disgust on her face....and tells me a cockroach was just crawling up her leg. SICK. Soon we forget about it though, and continue on with our meal, remarking that it's unusual for 3 Americans to be together. (I forgot to mention that when we walked in the restaurant, they turned on the A/C for us, with out asking if we needed it.) I'm telling you, it's celebrity life over here.
After dinner and ice cream, we decide to go see Alana's flat (rather CRWRC's mymensingh flat), which is near the Mission, where I live. All three of us expertly climb onto the rickshaw. One person has to sit on the top of the seat. Once at her flat, we hear the doorbell ring. I see her neighbor trying to push her way inside, she saw 3 white girls walk in, and presumably wants to know whats up. I see Alana holding firm, saying that now is not a good time....(later after we leave, she tells me the lady stayed for like an hour) It's really hard to be gracious in this place sometimes when people are demanding your attention and friendship.
We chat for a bit until it's nearly 9pm and the current/electricity has gone off. I have to get going since the sisters will soon lock the gate at the top of the convent stairs and I will have to bang on it loudly and wake them all up, if I come back too late. Yes, it has happened a few times and it is embarassing. I use my mobile phone's flashlight to light the the way down Alana's stair well. Only in Bangladesh do mobile phones have little flashlights in them. Very handy-- I use mine all the time.
I take a rickshaw back to the mission, pay the rickshaw wallah 6 taka, which he seems happy about. I go inside, realize the current is off there as well, and so I get ready for bed by candle light. Outside is an impressive heat lightning storm that I watch from in my bed until I fall asleep.
I wear running pants (even though it is like 82 degrees in the mornings) and an old kameze top that comes to my knees, but no orna--the scarf that covers my chest for modesty's sake--because only women are in the convent. I also listen to my mp3 player while running. I don't really like using it b/c all the albums are mixed up. Somehow all the songs got loaded in alphabetical order. But if you think of it sort of like a music quiz show, and try to name the artist real fast, then it's alright. Anyways. I was running around in circles, listening to music, Alicia Keys at this point I believe, and noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Two little girls from the orphanage were up, and were running 30 feet behind me, giggling to eachother. I motioned for them to come closer, and the three of us ran together. They took turns listening to my music as well. Once we all were sufficiently sweaty, I led some goofy stretching exercises....I guess I'll never be rid of my camp roger experience or recreation major. Then we walked back to the convent for breakfast.
I ate my normal breakfast of Chapati and egg. Drank good coffee from Thailand with my own special filtering system. The sisters always remark, "oh, I see you are cooking your coffee again." I was just finishing my 4th glass of water, when a priest walked in an announced, "this is my last coffee time with the sisters before leaving for America!" He had gotten a visa and was leaving for America, New Jersey, specifically, in four days. He was giddy with excitement. I sat down with him and chatted about what it was like to live in America. He had all sorts of questions about funerals, since he was going to be in charge of burying people, among other things at his parish. It was fun to chat with him about my own culture. I forgot just how many questions someone going there for the first time might have. He was concerned about being cold. I told him he would be cold, but just to bring a heavy jacket and he'd be fine. I don't know if he believed me.
I had my normal 9am class with the aspirant sisters. I have been teaching my students many songs this year. I did not really feel like doing work at this point, and they did not feel like doing work, so I taught them two new songs instead. I taught them the O bro where art thou? song, "I went down in the river to pray" as well as "Amazing Grace. " I've attempted to teach them some harmonies this year, but it is very hard to teach Western harmonies to people used to singing Eastern melodies. And since my guitar learning did not take off as I'd like it too, and since I don't have my violin to produce melodies and harmonies here....I have my voice, and my memory to teach with. I can hear the harmonies, but they of course, cannot.... We've really tried though. :)
After class, tea, of course. Lots of gossiping with the sisters who all gather together at 10am for tea. They also eat rice and vegetables at this time. They don't understand why I don't want to eat rice, but mostly, let me just sip my cha...while offering me rice a few times, (bangladeshi hospitality) which I continuously refuse.
Walk to my favorite internet cafe. On the way I buy my usual 7-UP from the same vendor, who sees me and knows what I will buy. Keep walking, wave hello to my tailor on the way.
It's super hot and humid, and for some reason, I decided to wear my long sleeved blue batik top with jeans. I am sweating in seconds. awesome. luckily (?) I can be a sweaty mess and do nothing to myself and everyone still marvels at my beauty and intelligence. I think I will be in for a wake up call once I come back to the States and not everyone thinks I am gorgeous and interesting.
I check email and facebook like a normal internet addict would.
Go back to the Mission for a lovely lunch of Rice and Vegetables. But yesterday we also were still eating my bannanna bread, which was a nice surprise. After lunch, I go upstairs to my room and begin the book "God of Small things." I read for a little while, take a little nap. Go downstairs after a while, and talk with Sister Francis for a bit about Geography. Sister Francis is awesome. She's in her 70s, I'd guess, is funny, smart, and loves learning. Especially about people and places and how to pronounce English words. I chat with her until it's time for my 3pm class.
My 3pm class is with the same students, so we practice our new songs, as well as some older ones. I am amazed at their memories. I give them time to study for the exam I am giving. I ask them some questions in English, to get them to talk a bit, and then to round out one of our last classes together we play "hangman." Not very Pacifist, I know. If you have any alternatives, I'm all ears.
4pm. More tea with all the sisters gathering around the table. They again are eating rice. I am again refusing. Not too politely though, or they will not take me seriously. Some of the sisters are also eating Corn on the Cob. Since I grew up on a vegetable farm, and know my corn on the cob pretty well, I was super excited to have my first ear of the season right then and there. I take my first bite. It tastes like field corn. It's terribly chewy, not sweet, and really hard to chew. (Why did I expect Wiers Farm Corn? I don't know) But of course, I must finish it. By the end, my jaw hurts from chewing it so much. I wish I could give them some actual good sweet soft corn. Uncle John, want to send some seeds over here? :)
After corn on the cob, Sister Francis and I watch some BBC news together. She tells me her nose has diarria and laughs. (She has a runny nose)
Much to my delight my friend Alana, who works for CRWRC calls me and tells me she is in Mymensingh and asks if I have dinner plans. I meet up with her and Reba at Rom III, Mymensingh's little greasy spoon, for some naan and vegetables and curried hard boiled egg. At one point, Alana gets this look of disgust on her face....and tells me a cockroach was just crawling up her leg. SICK. Soon we forget about it though, and continue on with our meal, remarking that it's unusual for 3 Americans to be together. (I forgot to mention that when we walked in the restaurant, they turned on the A/C for us, with out asking if we needed it.) I'm telling you, it's celebrity life over here.
After dinner and ice cream, we decide to go see Alana's flat (rather CRWRC's mymensingh flat), which is near the Mission, where I live. All three of us expertly climb onto the rickshaw. One person has to sit on the top of the seat. Once at her flat, we hear the doorbell ring. I see her neighbor trying to push her way inside, she saw 3 white girls walk in, and presumably wants to know whats up. I see Alana holding firm, saying that now is not a good time....(later after we leave, she tells me the lady stayed for like an hour) It's really hard to be gracious in this place sometimes when people are demanding your attention and friendship.
We chat for a bit until it's nearly 9pm and the current/electricity has gone off. I have to get going since the sisters will soon lock the gate at the top of the convent stairs and I will have to bang on it loudly and wake them all up, if I come back too late. Yes, it has happened a few times and it is embarassing. I use my mobile phone's flashlight to light the the way down Alana's stair well. Only in Bangladesh do mobile phones have little flashlights in them. Very handy-- I use mine all the time.
I take a rickshaw back to the mission, pay the rickshaw wallah 6 taka, which he seems happy about. I go inside, realize the current is off there as well, and so I get ready for bed by candle light. Outside is an impressive heat lightning storm that I watch from in my bed until I fall asleep.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Normal Days are a changing....
Hello everyone in blogger land, I actually wonder who is still reading this....
It's my day off but when my job description is "live and be part of the Holy Family Convent Community" I don't really ever have a day off. But today that means I am not teaching any classes. I recently learned that my favorite students (yes, I do have a favorite class) are leaving next week! I can't believe it. They were not supposed to leave until June 13; But as with most planning in Bangladesh, it always changes. or plans contain the word, "maybe" more than the average North American plans.... in this case, the aspirant sisters, those young women who will one day become sisters/nuns are indeed leaving to go to their villages before they head to Dhaka for 2 years of college. They are by far the best part of my job. I have learned much from them and we've had some ridiculous good times in class, as most of you could imagine. I will miss them.
Today, I am going to make Bananna Bread for the sisters. Kola ruti. They call it cake, which, given the sweet factor, it probably is. Leave it to Americans to call cake, bread. No wonder we are facing an obesity epidemic. but I digress. One thing I really miss is baking and cooking. At the mission we have a cook, Mashie, who does all the cooking for 20 some Sisters, 30 some girls in the orphanage and 10 some other workers who stay at the Mission. Lots of rice and curried veggies. I eat rice and curried veggies twice a day. I also eat about 3 banannas a day. For those of you asking where the protein in my diet is (mom) I eat peanut butter like it's my job, until they decide not to make it for 3 months. Then I don't eat it. For those of you wondering why I am blogging about this and are about to stop reading, I am done talking about food. (but I really miss eating good, non curried vegetables, beans, and whole wheat bread--Maybe you (all?) and I can cook together when I come home--things like black bean quesidillas, bean soup, granola pancakes, spinach lasagne, vegetarian pizza, whole wheat bread...) okay, no more food talk.
I'm hoping that soon I will stop feeling so cynical about Bangladesh. Lately all the small things have been getting to me. Small being: the stupid comments from the men around here, loss of my freedom, eating white rice 2 times a day, the stupid mosquito that somehow got into my mosquito net last night and ate my ankles for a great feast, the heat and humidity....I imagine that once it hits me I am leaving I will start to have romantic notions about Bangladesh again and perhaps will be sad to leave. Who knows, though.
I'm going to have to figure out some new things to do with my time, given that my students are leaving. My other group of students are taking an exam for the next month, so we don't have class currently either. I am thinking about spending my mornings at the L'Arche community. It's a place where 4 boys with mental and physical disabilities live. They are orphans and would otherwise be on the street. In the mornings they have a day care for children with disabilities; Bangladesh has a long way to go in terms of special education and awareness about disabilites in general, but L'arche is amazing and is doing amazing things for the Mymensingh community. It's a good good place to spend time. One other option is helping the Taize Brothers with their english curriculum for their schools. There is another volunteer who is from Germany who asked if I'd like to help her do this, and it sounds like it'd be another good option. There never is a shortage of volunteer work here, that is for sure.
I also just found out that at 6pm most nights, before 7pm prayers, she (caroline, from germany) is teaching Taize songs in English...and I plan to join her and the boys who live in the Taize community to learn more of the songs. I love Taize.
Life here in Bangladesh is very normal now, even a bit boring. I find myself longing for another adventure. I am sure I just need to look a little harder and I will find another rabbit hole to disappear into. What will it take to have an adventure at home after this year? I will think about that when the time comes. As for me, now, it is time for lunch.
PEACE.
Cicely
It's my day off but when my job description is "live and be part of the Holy Family Convent Community" I don't really ever have a day off. But today that means I am not teaching any classes. I recently learned that my favorite students (yes, I do have a favorite class) are leaving next week! I can't believe it. They were not supposed to leave until June 13; But as with most planning in Bangladesh, it always changes. or plans contain the word, "maybe" more than the average North American plans.... in this case, the aspirant sisters, those young women who will one day become sisters/nuns are indeed leaving to go to their villages before they head to Dhaka for 2 years of college. They are by far the best part of my job. I have learned much from them and we've had some ridiculous good times in class, as most of you could imagine. I will miss them.
Today, I am going to make Bananna Bread for the sisters. Kola ruti. They call it cake, which, given the sweet factor, it probably is. Leave it to Americans to call cake, bread. No wonder we are facing an obesity epidemic. but I digress. One thing I really miss is baking and cooking. At the mission we have a cook, Mashie, who does all the cooking for 20 some Sisters, 30 some girls in the orphanage and 10 some other workers who stay at the Mission. Lots of rice and curried veggies. I eat rice and curried veggies twice a day. I also eat about 3 banannas a day. For those of you asking where the protein in my diet is (mom) I eat peanut butter like it's my job, until they decide not to make it for 3 months. Then I don't eat it. For those of you wondering why I am blogging about this and are about to stop reading, I am done talking about food. (but I really miss eating good, non curried vegetables, beans, and whole wheat bread--Maybe you (all?) and I can cook together when I come home--things like black bean quesidillas, bean soup, granola pancakes, spinach lasagne, vegetarian pizza, whole wheat bread...) okay, no more food talk.
I'm hoping that soon I will stop feeling so cynical about Bangladesh. Lately all the small things have been getting to me. Small being: the stupid comments from the men around here, loss of my freedom, eating white rice 2 times a day, the stupid mosquito that somehow got into my mosquito net last night and ate my ankles for a great feast, the heat and humidity....I imagine that once it hits me I am leaving I will start to have romantic notions about Bangladesh again and perhaps will be sad to leave. Who knows, though.
I'm going to have to figure out some new things to do with my time, given that my students are leaving. My other group of students are taking an exam for the next month, so we don't have class currently either. I am thinking about spending my mornings at the L'Arche community. It's a place where 4 boys with mental and physical disabilities live. They are orphans and would otherwise be on the street. In the mornings they have a day care for children with disabilities; Bangladesh has a long way to go in terms of special education and awareness about disabilites in general, but L'arche is amazing and is doing amazing things for the Mymensingh community. It's a good good place to spend time. One other option is helping the Taize Brothers with their english curriculum for their schools. There is another volunteer who is from Germany who asked if I'd like to help her do this, and it sounds like it'd be another good option. There never is a shortage of volunteer work here, that is for sure.
I also just found out that at 6pm most nights, before 7pm prayers, she (caroline, from germany) is teaching Taize songs in English...and I plan to join her and the boys who live in the Taize community to learn more of the songs. I love Taize.
Life here in Bangladesh is very normal now, even a bit boring. I find myself longing for another adventure. I am sure I just need to look a little harder and I will find another rabbit hole to disappear into. What will it take to have an adventure at home after this year? I will think about that when the time comes. As for me, now, it is time for lunch.
PEACE.
Cicely
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Global Family Trip to Garopara and Boldipukur
(I just wrote this up for the newsletter--it matches the pictures I posted a couple weeks ago)
I recently returned from a great visit to Garopara and Boldipukur, two of MCC’s Global Family partners. It was good to travel again and see more of the countryside of Bangladesh and meet the Sisters who work at these two Catholic Missions. I was excited to go to the Northwestern part of Bangladesh, as I had not yet been to that region before. I have gotten accustomed to these long bumpy trips in the pick-up truck, with stops for some good cha (tea), hot-off-the-grill parota (kind of like a fried tortilla) and deem (egg) omelets, (complete with finely diced chillis, of course) for breakfast.
After our long drive through gorgeous green rice fields and small quiet villages, making turns along unmarked roads that were allegedly leading us to the Mission; I finally saw the familiar green signs with crosses, signaling that we were getting very close to Garopara Catholic Mission, our first stop. Garopara is one of the smaller Missions. Bari also told me it is the poorest of all the MCC Global Family programs. When we arrived, it had begun to rain but all the children still came to greet us smiling and looking at me with curiosity. The Sisters welcomed us and showed us to a table set for tea in a side room with a tin roof. As we visited and drank our tea, the rain on the tin roof blended well with our conversation about how the Sisters were doing and about the children’s upcoming exams.
After tea, the Children put on a fantastic cultural program for us. I could see they were happy to have a two hour break from their studying. Guests rarely come to visit, since they are so remote, so when they do, they are celebrated and treated with great kindness. After lunch we said our goodbyes to the children and to the Sisters and headed for Boldipukur.
As we pulled into Boldipukur Mission, Sister Roni waved hello to us. As I got out of the truck, she greeted me with a kiss on each cheek. I looked around. This Mission is absolutely beautiful. It was redone only two years ago and the Sister’s care in keeping it clean and tidy keeps it looking exceptionally nice. The amazing flower and vegetable gardens also show the Sister’s diligence in taking care of what has been given to them. This order of Sisters is originally from Italy, though most of the sisters are now Bangladeshi. Sr. Roni asked me if I’d like some Italian coffee. I asked her if she was serious. Nobody knows how to make real good strong coffee in Bangladesh (or so I thought), but in about 10 minutes an amazing black strong cup of Joe was right before me. Hospitality truly is a one of Sr. Roni’s gifts, and it was not only the coffee.
Soon we were taken to the front area of the hostel, where the entrance served as a nice stage on which we were seated for the cultural program. A large group of children faced us, sitting on the grass. This cultural program was a little different than the others. The children wash the feet of any visitors to welcome them according to their tradition. Before I knew it, two young girls were taking off my sandals, washing my feet and smoothing mustard oil on them. Following the foot washing were many good songs and dances and cute children reciting poems for us.
The next morning, Sister Roni showed me around the Mission. She brought me to the Dispensary where people from surrounding villages come for medical treatment. She wanted to make sure I saw everything, from the linens MCC had given to the place where the medicine that MCC helped to purchase was kept, so I could pass on her gratefulness to the folks who give to MCC. This visit was too short. I could have talked with Sr. Roni about poverty, spirituality and how she serves God with her gifts for much longer than our half hour of conversation. I was thankful I had a chance to meet her and see the work she and the other sisters are doing, and if I can, I want to go to visit this mission one more time before I leave in late July.
I recently returned from a great visit to Garopara and Boldipukur, two of MCC’s Global Family partners. It was good to travel again and see more of the countryside of Bangladesh and meet the Sisters who work at these two Catholic Missions. I was excited to go to the Northwestern part of Bangladesh, as I had not yet been to that region before. I have gotten accustomed to these long bumpy trips in the pick-up truck, with stops for some good cha (tea), hot-off-the-grill parota (kind of like a fried tortilla) and deem (egg) omelets, (complete with finely diced chillis, of course) for breakfast.
After our long drive through gorgeous green rice fields and small quiet villages, making turns along unmarked roads that were allegedly leading us to the Mission; I finally saw the familiar green signs with crosses, signaling that we were getting very close to Garopara Catholic Mission, our first stop. Garopara is one of the smaller Missions. Bari also told me it is the poorest of all the MCC Global Family programs. When we arrived, it had begun to rain but all the children still came to greet us smiling and looking at me with curiosity. The Sisters welcomed us and showed us to a table set for tea in a side room with a tin roof. As we visited and drank our tea, the rain on the tin roof blended well with our conversation about how the Sisters were doing and about the children’s upcoming exams.
After tea, the Children put on a fantastic cultural program for us. I could see they were happy to have a two hour break from their studying. Guests rarely come to visit, since they are so remote, so when they do, they are celebrated and treated with great kindness. After lunch we said our goodbyes to the children and to the Sisters and headed for Boldipukur.
As we pulled into Boldipukur Mission, Sister Roni waved hello to us. As I got out of the truck, she greeted me with a kiss on each cheek. I looked around. This Mission is absolutely beautiful. It was redone only two years ago and the Sister’s care in keeping it clean and tidy keeps it looking exceptionally nice. The amazing flower and vegetable gardens also show the Sister’s diligence in taking care of what has been given to them. This order of Sisters is originally from Italy, though most of the sisters are now Bangladeshi. Sr. Roni asked me if I’d like some Italian coffee. I asked her if she was serious. Nobody knows how to make real good strong coffee in Bangladesh (or so I thought), but in about 10 minutes an amazing black strong cup of Joe was right before me. Hospitality truly is a one of Sr. Roni’s gifts, and it was not only the coffee.
Soon we were taken to the front area of the hostel, where the entrance served as a nice stage on which we were seated for the cultural program. A large group of children faced us, sitting on the grass. This cultural program was a little different than the others. The children wash the feet of any visitors to welcome them according to their tradition. Before I knew it, two young girls were taking off my sandals, washing my feet and smoothing mustard oil on them. Following the foot washing were many good songs and dances and cute children reciting poems for us.
The next morning, Sister Roni showed me around the Mission. She brought me to the Dispensary where people from surrounding villages come for medical treatment. She wanted to make sure I saw everything, from the linens MCC had given to the place where the medicine that MCC helped to purchase was kept, so I could pass on her gratefulness to the folks who give to MCC. This visit was too short. I could have talked with Sr. Roni about poverty, spirituality and how she serves God with her gifts for much longer than our half hour of conversation. I was thankful I had a chance to meet her and see the work she and the other sisters are doing, and if I can, I want to go to visit this mission one more time before I leave in late July.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Cultural dance. The children do not often have an audience, so when we come on these visits, its a huge deal. We are given the place of honor, the food of honor and many many songs and dances. This last time, they asked me to sing for them. I am getting used to this here. I am always being asked to sing an English song for them. Sometimes I will be in the park and people won't let me leave without me singing a song for them. This time I sang an O Brother Where Art Thou? song and later I sang Amazing Grace.
A skit by two girls about the woman (right) taking care of the man (left). they were dancing as well as acting to the beat of a drum. It was funny.
I think at this point I am awkwardly explaining where America is in Relation to Bangladesh. Bari helps me by translating...
This woman is getting medicine from the Sister's Dispensery. Two Sisters at this Mission were nurses. The waiting area is huge, and many people come each day, needing care. MCC gives some medicine once a year to this Mission.
Sister plays the harmonium and everyone sings...you have to pump the harmonium with your left hand and play the melody with your right, and sing, reading the words. They do it so effortlessly.
This little munchkin recited an english poem for us. It was about Red lights and Green lights. They cut all the little girl's hair like this to make it "grow long and strong." They are suggesting the same thing for me. I politely refuse. :0)
Global Family Visits to the NW
As is customary, to show honor and respect for guests these two girls washed my feet with soap and then smoothed mustard oil on them. The sheer ordinariness of it all struck me. There were no praise bands riling up emotions, no music, no complicated metaphors, no electricity even, it was normal, everyday--of course you welcome those you respect by washing their feet.
Many kids at the mission. They welcomed us by singing in their local language.Thursday, May 03, 2007
Superfluous
Things I miss from home in the US, Grand Rapids, specifically--not in order of importance.
Places:
-Common Ground Coffee Shop
-Kava House
-Sami's Pita house
-Billy's Lounge
-Little Bohemia and all those amazing beads
-downtown library--2nd floor
-The Y (women here don't exercise...ever--its making me crazy)
-My aunt and uncle's house complete with cousins and dog, Toby
-Harambee's porch
-Wilcox park
-Cottage Bar
-Camp Roger--all that open forest and trails
-Holland--and the beach. Tunnel Park.
-Mir's apt--drinking coffee while she plays the piano, after we just made and ate stromboli
-Lori's hot tub--preferrably we are both enjoying it and talking...
-Eastown in general....
-Wolfgangs--is the early bird special still in existence? 2.25?
-Reeds Lake-walking or running around it
-Harambee's Sunporch
-My own kitchen where I can make my own food
Food:
-cold cereal with cold milk
-coffee
-wheat bread. or 7 grain bread.
-Salad
-Pizza with cheeze that melts
-Actual vegetarian food. no small fish lurking about in there
-BEANS! (i am sooo excited to eat kidney beans in less than 3 months)
-wine
-local brews, or my brother's brews
-coffee--oh I already said that
other things:
-going places and not getting stared at, asked for my phone number, asked all sort of annoying questions by annoying overzealous men. I never knew how much I liked fitting in. Going to the bank and running other errands in GR with nobody watching never looked so good.
-ovens.
-wearing clothes that are not always so matchy matchy
-blue jeans.
-oregano and other non-curry spices (that should go in the food section , I guess)
-walking on a paved sidewalk.
-calling people on the phone whenever I want to
-being able to read street signs
-being able to be friends with men and not always being asked, "what is your relationship?"
To be continued. (maybe later I will post the things I will miss about Bangladesh. today I am too cynical for such a list. haha)
Places:
-Common Ground Coffee Shop
-Kava House
-Sami's Pita house
-Billy's Lounge
-Little Bohemia and all those amazing beads
-downtown library--2nd floor
-The Y (women here don't exercise...ever--its making me crazy)
-My aunt and uncle's house complete with cousins and dog, Toby
-Harambee's porch
-Wilcox park
-Cottage Bar
-Camp Roger--all that open forest and trails
-Holland--and the beach. Tunnel Park.
-Mir's apt--drinking coffee while she plays the piano, after we just made and ate stromboli
-Lori's hot tub--preferrably we are both enjoying it and talking...
-Eastown in general....
-Wolfgangs--is the early bird special still in existence? 2.25?
-Reeds Lake-walking or running around it
-Harambee's Sunporch
-My own kitchen where I can make my own food
Food:
-cold cereal with cold milk
-coffee
-wheat bread. or 7 grain bread.
-Salad
-Pizza with cheeze that melts
-Actual vegetarian food. no small fish lurking about in there
-BEANS! (i am sooo excited to eat kidney beans in less than 3 months)
-wine
-local brews, or my brother's brews
-coffee--oh I already said that
other things:
-going places and not getting stared at, asked for my phone number, asked all sort of annoying questions by annoying overzealous men. I never knew how much I liked fitting in. Going to the bank and running other errands in GR with nobody watching never looked so good.
-ovens.
-wearing clothes that are not always so matchy matchy
-blue jeans.
-oregano and other non-curry spices (that should go in the food section , I guess)
-walking on a paved sidewalk.
-calling people on the phone whenever I want to
-being able to read street signs
-being able to be friends with men and not always being asked, "what is your relationship?"
To be continued. (maybe later I will post the things I will miss about Bangladesh. today I am too cynical for such a list. haha)
Monday, April 30, 2007
Kolkata
It's monday over here and I just got back at 1am from a fast jaunt to Kolkata/ Calcutta over the weekend. I headed there with fellow SALTER, Darren, to meet our fellow India SALTERS, Kate and Sara. SALTin it up. MCC would be proud. Heck, they already are.
Getting from Dhaka to Kolkata is not too hard, but it does take 13 hours by bus. Flying takes 1/2 hour, but is about 4 times as expensive. Granted, the bus does have Air Conditioning, so much so that you need a blanket to stay somewhat warm. I've been on so many bumpy, crowded, crappy busses this year, that this one rode pretty much like a dream. (not to mention the ample leg room)
Crossing the border=not so much like a dream. Chaos, that somehow works. We were ushered through many concrete buildings, into waiting rooms, on to rickshaws,past dozens of freight trucks trying to cross the border, filled out numerous paperworks--all while in that semi consciousness state that happens when you travel for long distances and sort of forget where you are actually going and if you will actually get there. (the worst part perhaps is that I lost my neck pillow when we changed busses at the border. neck pillows make a world of difference when traveling around here. if you haven't given much thought to one, maybe it's time you do.)
Once in Kolkata we were greeted by Sara and Kate who had a worse train ride experience than our border chaos. Their train was overbooked so they didn't really have seats. overnight. It's never worth complaining b/c someone always has it worse. :)
They took us to eat some good indian food with great garlic naan bread,took us to the flower market, over the Howrah bridge...this bridge has the world record number for people crossing it everyday. When we crossed it there was a steady stream of people walking and driving going in both directions. Apparently the stream never even pauses. Later in the evening we went to the "sound and light show" all about the history of Kolkata. It was really funny. But only to us. The Indians around us were watching with firm concentration and appreciation. It had a ridiculous, catchy " I am Kolkata" tune with lights shining up on this huge building...and random historical facts. The narrorator ended his 45 minute monologue saying, "come to Kolkata and it will give you life." It could be a Cult Classic, as Darren aptly noted. Apparently Sound and Light shows are a big deal in India. It was so funny that it might be one of the highlights of visiting Kolkata.
Everyone knows about Kolkata because of Mother Theresa and thinks of Kolkata with a bit of pity or pious jealousy toward the woman who lived her life in solidarity with the poor. I was ready to see the bowels of the city and visit Mother Theresa's house, and see exactly what all the hype about Kolkata and Mother Theresa was about. What I saw and felt came as a bit of a surprise to me. Truthfully, Kolkata is much the same as the cities of Dhaka or Mymensingh--places that have become home. There is more of a street culture, as people are bathing in ceramic tubs right outside. There are more beggers, or so it seems. More people sleeping on the street. My reactions were less being overwhelmed by the poverty, as more of a confirmation, that yes, this place is much like many other places I have visited. There is wealth, there is poverty, there is a middle class.Yes, it is a stark difference between the rich and poor. But maybe it's just more revealed than other cities--more honest--than I've been to and lived in-- in the US. Some people are concerned for only themselves and their personal assets and some decide to care about the poor, as Mother Theresa did. It confirms what I have been learning this year that injustice is injustice where ever you go. And again leaves me asking what my small piece of the puzzle is in caring for those that need care and giving a voice, or helping those to find their voice that before where speechless.
Getting from Dhaka to Kolkata is not too hard, but it does take 13 hours by bus. Flying takes 1/2 hour, but is about 4 times as expensive. Granted, the bus does have Air Conditioning, so much so that you need a blanket to stay somewhat warm. I've been on so many bumpy, crowded, crappy busses this year, that this one rode pretty much like a dream. (not to mention the ample leg room)
Crossing the border=not so much like a dream. Chaos, that somehow works. We were ushered through many concrete buildings, into waiting rooms, on to rickshaws,past dozens of freight trucks trying to cross the border, filled out numerous paperworks--all while in that semi consciousness state that happens when you travel for long distances and sort of forget where you are actually going and if you will actually get there. (the worst part perhaps is that I lost my neck pillow when we changed busses at the border. neck pillows make a world of difference when traveling around here. if you haven't given much thought to one, maybe it's time you do.)
Once in Kolkata we were greeted by Sara and Kate who had a worse train ride experience than our border chaos. Their train was overbooked so they didn't really have seats. overnight. It's never worth complaining b/c someone always has it worse. :)
They took us to eat some good indian food with great garlic naan bread,took us to the flower market, over the Howrah bridge...this bridge has the world record number for people crossing it everyday. When we crossed it there was a steady stream of people walking and driving going in both directions. Apparently the stream never even pauses. Later in the evening we went to the "sound and light show" all about the history of Kolkata. It was really funny. But only to us. The Indians around us were watching with firm concentration and appreciation. It had a ridiculous, catchy " I am Kolkata" tune with lights shining up on this huge building...and random historical facts. The narrorator ended his 45 minute monologue saying, "come to Kolkata and it will give you life." It could be a Cult Classic, as Darren aptly noted. Apparently Sound and Light shows are a big deal in India. It was so funny that it might be one of the highlights of visiting Kolkata.
Everyone knows about Kolkata because of Mother Theresa and thinks of Kolkata with a bit of pity or pious jealousy toward the woman who lived her life in solidarity with the poor. I was ready to see the bowels of the city and visit Mother Theresa's house, and see exactly what all the hype about Kolkata and Mother Theresa was about. What I saw and felt came as a bit of a surprise to me. Truthfully, Kolkata is much the same as the cities of Dhaka or Mymensingh--places that have become home. There is more of a street culture, as people are bathing in ceramic tubs right outside. There are more beggers, or so it seems. More people sleeping on the street. My reactions were less being overwhelmed by the poverty, as more of a confirmation, that yes, this place is much like many other places I have visited. There is wealth, there is poverty, there is a middle class.Yes, it is a stark difference between the rich and poor. But maybe it's just more revealed than other cities--more honest--than I've been to and lived in-- in the US. Some people are concerned for only themselves and their personal assets and some decide to care about the poor, as Mother Theresa did. It confirms what I have been learning this year that injustice is injustice where ever you go. And again leaves me asking what my small piece of the puzzle is in caring for those that need care and giving a voice, or helping those to find their voice that before where speechless.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Global Family Trip
This is a church at one of the missions. Below...These are 2 of my sister friends, MCC National Staff and new priest friends. 
Trip North to Global Family Programs
This is in Baluchura, I am introducing myself. MCC does Peace and Conflict Resolution trainings with the children at various Mission schools and part of my job as a SALTER is to go along on these trips and learn about MCC's Global Family programs. I also have the privelege of seeing many different parts of Bangladesh this way--and traveling by A/C Truck isn't all that bad either.
We always get a hearty welcome. This girl is pinning a flower on me, while the larger group is singing a welcome song loudly and clapping their hands. At night the children from the Mission put on a Cultural Program with traditional dancing, skits and singing. It's really fun.Monday, April 23, 2007
This last week or so...
It's been a good last week or so. Full of normalish good things. I went south to Bandarban for a Buddhist Water festival last weekend with some friends. The water festival generally involves lots of little children throwing water all over anyone who looks their way. We got completely soaked on our rickshaw when 14 boys decided to attack us with water from 2 liter bottles as we cruised by. It was a hot and humid day so it felt really nice. Later, I went near the river and watched the Monks bathe the Golden Buddha in holy water, which smelled of sandalwood. A huge crowd gathered on the riverbank to take part in the ceremony and prayers. Some monks played the drums and other men played something that looked a bit like a flute. As I looked around I felt a bit out of place--of course no other foreigners besides us came to this; Sometimes not fitting in hits me more than other times--it wasn't a bad thing, more of an amusing realization.
This weekend my friend and housemate from last year, James, has been visiting, which has been fun. It's always good to show someone around and see what they notice and the conversations it produces.
The Sisters have been attending an Herbal Medicine Seminar for the last week, and have been cooking up all sorts of interesting medicines in the kitchen, producing many interesting new smells. James and I tried one today, it was very good, and menthol tasting. We had to close our eyes while drinking it, or we would start to cry from the fumes.
Tomorrow will bring prayers at Taize, a bus to Dhaka and Tea with Ethel. Oh yeah, and teaching English.
This weekend will bring a trip to Kolkata to see the city and Mother Theresa's house....
It's not a bad life that I'm living at all.
p.e.a.c.e.
This weekend my friend and housemate from last year, James, has been visiting, which has been fun. It's always good to show someone around and see what they notice and the conversations it produces.
The Sisters have been attending an Herbal Medicine Seminar for the last week, and have been cooking up all sorts of interesting medicines in the kitchen, producing many interesting new smells. James and I tried one today, it was very good, and menthol tasting. We had to close our eyes while drinking it, or we would start to cry from the fumes.
Tomorrow will bring prayers at Taize, a bus to Dhaka and Tea with Ethel. Oh yeah, and teaching English.
This weekend will bring a trip to Kolkata to see the city and Mother Theresa's house....
It's not a bad life that I'm living at all.
p.e.a.c.e.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Sisters...
Retu and Sister Meeta...
Greener than green rice field. I took this when I went to visit Sister Florence's village.
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