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.

After one of the cultural program all the children were free stylin' it..and grabbed my hands, and suddenly I was dancing along with them for a good long time. It was the highlight of my trip.
The hills of India.

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.

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.

Sisters...

Retu and Sister Meeta...
Greener than green rice field. I took this when I went to visit Sister Florence's village.

Really?

Doesn't "sumptuous" usually apply to bosoms or the like? I never realized that it could be about fast foods. Some of the signage is really funny here; but I am starting to forget what makes sense and what doesn't. I am also mixing up my prepositions and how I speak has changed. Sometimes its very "alice in wonderlandish" over here.

MCC partner organization

SUSS is an MCC partner org. They work to reduce early marriages, in education, in advocacy, and the exuctive director, a woman, has an amazing optimistic outlook about Bangladesh. She started the organization after being married very young and going through very tough hellish circumstances. Now she advocates and provides these young women with and opportunity to learn sewing and handicraft skills. By learning these skills, their family sees that they can contribute, and will not marry them off at such a young age.
Batik in the making.

At L'arche

This is the same day as I danced with Boppi and the other volunteers at the L'Arche community. I was actually only pretending to cook; I don't really know how to make fish curry very well. My students wanted to take a picture of me trying though.
Three of my students: Chandra, Nandita, Me, Amrita. We had such a great morning that day. We were laughing b/c the woman who took our picture, Mashie, had never taken one before and was holding it upsidedown 2.5 seconds before.

Happy Easter

This picture was taken right after Easter Sunday's service. These girls stay at the orphanage at the Mission. They were saying "Happy Easter, Di Di" to me. (Di Di is a term of respect that younger girls say to women) After the Holy Saturday Service I could feel the excitement in the air. The girls were dancing and singing and kissing eachother on the cheeks, yelling "happy easter" The Sisters permitted the semi chaos, because they, too were happy and celebrating for the entire week. I was glad I stuck around for all the services and spent it with those with whom I share my daily life.
Everyone wanted their portrait taken. She was the most patient and not screaming into my ear, so I took hers.... :)

From my classroom

One day my students didn't come to class, so I took a few pictures from around the room. The Mission where I live has many blue eyed pictures of Jesus and Mary. I find it confusing, especially since I am the only one at the Mission with Blueish eyes and I am pretty sure Jesus didn't look like the below picture. I wonder if they ask these questions too. Also lots of pictures of them with golden crowns and flowing, red, velvet king's capes.
A picture of Mary.

Dancing with Boppi

It's easy to get weighed down here in Bangladesh. Too much noise, traffic, pollution. It's overpopulated, men make inappropriate sexual comments all the time, people staring--rubbernecking to get a good look at me. (not to mention the extreme poverty, corruption, sexisim and all other "isms") The daily combination of all that can be, quite frankly, exhausting.

However, there are many things besides the aforementioned that are life giving--making my time here in Bangladesh not only manageable but delightful. This morning I headed to Ashinir- L'Arche ( an international community for people with disabilities) with three of my students. We took a rickshaw and arrived right on time to help with the day care for kids with special needs. We got there and learned that it had been cancelled because of the Easter Holiday. We could have gone home, but we sat for a little while, drank tea and ate biscuits with the live- in volunteers. Three volunteers are from Bangladesh and one woman, Elenor, is from Ireland, but spends her life taking care of the 4 boys with special needs and no families, here in Bangladesh.

After drinking cha, Amrita, Nandita and Chandra all decided to help out with the cooking and cleaning, giving Elenor, Boppi and I a chance to gossip a bit. Boppi is about ten years old with both mental and physical disabilties. He doesn't use words to speak, but communicates quite effectively, if you know how to listen. He loves to listen to the gossip from around town. Elenor and I chatted for a while about western culture and bengali culture and just enjoyed speaking effortless english with eachother. Boppi played with my orna and held my hand and smiled alot, making cooing happy sounding noises. Soon, it was time for Elenor to finish the laundry, leaving me with Boppi. Two of the other volunteers dressed him up in my orna, Elenor's orna and some other colorful clothes and turned on Hindi dance music. Boppi knew just what to do. He started laughing and dancing in circles, grabbed my hand and asked me to dance too. Well, you don't have to ask me twice to dance, so Boppi and I danced and swayed and laughed and twirled around to music on the hard cold concrete floor. Soon my students, Elenor and the other volunteers were dancing and laughing too. It was amazing.

A La indirect communication

One day, my students all told me they were coming to class. 20 minutes later, I was ready to begin, but no students! Here, if you have a problem, you don't tell the person with whom you have the conflict, you tell others, who may or may not tell you that there is a problem. For me, this can be frustrating, but for them, that's just the way to communicate.... and to be honest, I didn't mind not having class.

Palm Sunday

This morning I woke up early to attend Palm Sunday 6:30am Mass. I have an opportunity to go to Mass every morning, but never go because it is all in churchy bangla which I don't understand and because it's normally at 6am...very early for a non morning person, especially with no coffee option. But, when I realized that it was Palm Sunday, I wanted to celebrate with other Christians and so I got myself up. (It wasn't that hard, I must admit) I walked over to the Church with Sister Momota, who was very excited I was attending Mass and then saw Elenor, an Irish woman I know who works in the local L'Arche community. She's an amazing woman in her 60s or 70s and was eager to chat with me about my recent trip to Nepal and her recent trip to India and to a Pilgrimmage for the Disabled that was held last weekend. 400 people with disabilities and their caretakers made a pilgrimmage, to show solidarity, at one of the Missions in Northern Bangladesh.

We stood around talking, while the Palm Branches were handed out. It was not unlike many Palm Sunday services I have attended in the past. The Priest then welcomed us, read the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a Donkey. Elenor had an English Liturgy, which was much appreciated. Then we all processed into the church, women going to the Left side and the Men veering to the Right. We took our shoes off by the door--it was a sea of shoes--walked in and sat on the floor. The harmonium and hand drums welcomed us in. The church is beautiful, and much of the service I was marveling at the shape the architect used and at the stained glass. I was also marveling at all the colorful saris and salwar kameezes that were around me. The women around me were fidgeting with their saris pulling the end up over their heads, to cover them. It never stays covered, but automatically they readjust the fabric. I find myself always readjusting my orna, sometimes without thinking, one seamless motion--maybe--I am probably awkward at it, compared to these women who've been wearing them since they were 12. (in Nepal, all of the women were having "phantom ornas" we kept thinking we were wearing them or forgot them or trying to adjust them) anyway.

Elenor and I followed the readings, the gospel, the Eucharist in her English prayer book. Sister Shanti did one of the readings with the Priest and we all stood or kneeled or were seated when appropriate. I figeted with my Palm Branch as I tried to catch some of the Bangla sermon. I imagine it was much like many of the sermons I've heard in the past.

Before I knew it, it was over and all of little children who live at my Mission were greeting me with their "goodmorning madams." They are so sweet--wearing matching dresses and bows. Outside the building I relocated my shoes with out too much trouble-I am sure I have the biggest feet of any woman there- and was greeted by Brother Geum, from Holland. He serves with 4 other brothers at the local Taize community and has been in Bangladesh for many years. It was nice to see him again.

Elenor and I walked back to the Mission, where Mashie (auntie in mandi, a tribal language) the cook, had prepared a wonderful breakfast of boiled eggs, chapati, pita (thin pancake like bread with coconut inside) for us and all 25 Sisters. We prayed our ususal prayer, said goodmorning to eachother, ate and talked. We especially talked about Sister Lucy, from France who had recently died at the age of 98. Sister Lucy spent her life in Bangladesh and was an extrodinary woman. I had the privelege of getting to know her a little bit this year, we'd communicate by writing on a small chalkboard, since her hearing was not good. Everyone spoke lovingly about her and how she was in this world no more. We also lamented about the new Visa policies and how the government is charging ridicuously high fines if you are late with the paperwork. It feels like a good, normal Palm Sunday.