Bangla, buses, and birals

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Teaching English is more fun than I ever would’ve thought teaching could be, particularly taking into account that I don’t actually know Bangla (my pupils’ native tongue), making things a bit more on the tricky side. But hey, ke garne?

The women are split into three groups, separated by ability level (based on a very simple assessment of their “Hi, how are you?” greetings.) And we jumped right into the learning a few weeks ago. (Wow! Does time really move that fast?)

We began with the basics, the most crucial stuff. After working on their ability to tell where they work, what they do, and to greet an individual, we began to expand to some of the elementary basics: shapes, colors, the alphabet, body parts, food, and objects. Next, we’ve gotten to working on basic actions and identifying things around them. (The full sentences are certainly the more difficult part.) But like I’ve repeated over and over, their progress is pretty astounding, and I certainly couldn’t be more proud.

Last weekend, I tagged along with Robin and one of her previous interns, Iris, on a quick journey to Mymensingh. Of course, the legitimacy of using the term “quick” in regards to our actual transit is debatable. After a very hot, soakedwithyourownsweat wait at the bus stand, we boarded and began the journey away from the crowded city. It was strange to see trees, and even fields of grass. Of course, there are plenty of beautiful countrysides in Bangladesh (particularly in the villages), but it’s remarkably easy to forget that they’re even in existence when you’re living in the hustle and bustle of the city. We arrived mid-afternoon (much later than our initial expectations) and as Robin headed off to a prayer meeting, Iris and I went to meet up with an old friend she’d stayed with the following year. After deciding the three of us were going to try to get some food, we headed into the town, exploring on a rickshaw. Of course, with our hearts set on naan bread (and NOT rice), the task was far easier said than done. Stop one: no naan, no tea. Stop two: no naan, no tea, no daal. Uhm, those were pretty much the only restaurants open. So we resorted to a street stall and got some pau roti and daal (a delicious option) takeaway.

That evening, we took a short boat ride along the river (of course, it was the place to be, and suddenly there were again, crowds of people everywhere), and had a dinner with more naan and fuschka.

boatride on the river

We spent the next morning visiting MCC (an NGO both Robin and Iris have worked for) worksites throughout Mymensingh. One involved the production of paper, all by hand, from the fiber of pineapple, another was where they made soap. Of course, Robin and Iris had the opportunity to meet up with old friends in the process, though suddenly it was time to head out again.

The bus stand was packed. There was to be a hartel (strike) for the next two days in Dhaka, and it seemed that everyone (including us) was trying to get back to the city before being stuck unable to get in. Hartels are very similar to the bandhs in Nepal: all main businesses and virtually all transportation shuts down in the name of some sort of political issue. In this case, apparently, it had something to do with taxing. Of course, they seem to be a bit more serious than anything we experienced in Nepal. Unfortunately, hartels include throwing rocks or large objects at some CNGs or busses that do choose to operate, and other busses are flipped on their side or burned. Yeah, don’t want to get caught inside when that’s going on.

We finally made it on the bus for the long ride back (one that should’ve taken a few hours that dragged out to more than five). Of course, once we did make it back to the city, the battle wasn’t over as Robin and I wandered up and down the road looking for any rickshaw wallas that would be willing to take us the final leg of the journey home. Not that there was a lack of people, the streets were full (regardless of the late hour at night) and rickshaws were everywhere. But inconveniently, they were all occupied or unwilling to take on passengers. After twenty minutes or so, one man agreed to take us, and we finally made it back. Just in time for a late dinner, bed, and a new workweek ahead.

But it went well! (the workweek, that is) Unfortunately I was out sick for parts of it, but I’m proud to announce that the women were shining stars when we had our first group of visitors at Hand & Cloth. They were so excited to meet the new people, and they were able to successfully converse with bits of “I am fine, how are you?” and responding to “What do you do here?” with “I make blankets.” Really, it sounds simple. But I could not be more proud.

Yesterday, between some homework catchup and room cleanup (had to clean the mold I found covering my shoes and half my clothes. That’s hot and humid for ya), I adopted a kitten. (Sorry Robin!) It’s been unusually and pleasantly cool for the past couple of days, as Dhaka has been covered by rain clouds and an intermittent pattern of drizzling showers. Two nights ago, we noticed a kitten meowing into the night, somewhere just outside the house, and when I woke up to hear it still crying, I wandered from window to window, trying to figure out where it might be. (It sounded so close!). Sure enough, I opened a little side window in my room, looked down, and saw a tiny little heap of wet, matted fur, barely moving (but clearly crying) in the mud just on the other side of the wall. Towel in hand, I headed out into the rain. Sure, ya can’t save ‘em all, but the poor little thing looked miserable. After a nice drying off and some picking off of bugs, she was looking much more feline-like, and her black coat is nice and soft. After a quick trip down the road, I had an eyedropper for feeding (she’s tiny, we’re talking 100 grams and probably two weeks old), and today she accompanied us for an exciting day at work. Of course, the women are both baffled and disgusted (birals - cats - are not typically pets in Bangladesh), but she seems to be settling in okay. So a new member is added to the family (until a better home is found, at least). I’m calling her the word night in Nepali: Raati.

Welcome to Bangladesh

Being out of your element can be scary, intimidating, and oh so fun. After a long night trying to stay awake in the Bangkok airport followed by a day of flying, I arrived to Bangladesh mid-afternoon last Wednesday. Fortunately, I was able to get my visa (at least for the first month of my stay) without much hassle and was off to pick up my luggage (which turned out to be covered in some kind of sticky food from someone else’s bag) and meet up with Sarah Jennings. I was connected to the Jennings family through my boss, Robin Seyfert, owner of Hand & Cloth Bangladesh.

Of course coming to Bangladesh, I hadn’t actually met Robin yet, but she’s been inexplicably helpful over the last couple months amidst last-minute planning. So, like I said, she connected me with the Jennings and I stayed with them for my first night in Dhaka. The next day, there was a “western style” baby shower thrown at the house for Dipty, a family friend, and then I met up with Robin and we headed to Mirpur 11 – home for the next five weeks.

It’s a nice little spot, and Robin and I were greeted by her newly adopted kitten Mishti (the Bengla word for “sweets”) as we finally made it into the house late on Thursday night. Bengla weekends span from Friday to Saturday, so Robin and I got up early on Friday morning to head to church. We made a pit-stop at the Hand & Cloth office on the way to pick up some of the kantha blankets that had been completed and were ready to be dropped off at a coffee shop to sell.

After church, we went to the Jennings for lunch then to a delicious coffee shop (apparently the best “real” coffee anyone’s been able to find in Dhaka), then we made a couple stops by garment stores before catching the bus home.

Life in Bangladesh is strangely similar yet so different what I experienced in Nepal. At first glance, things are very much the same: crazy traffic, lots of people, fruit carts, busses, smelly markets – all that good stuff. But Bangladesh has with it a whole new set of challenges and new things to get used to. First off? I thought Nepal had a lot of people (particularly pedestrians, walking along the streets)… Sure, I might’ve been right. But it’s nothing in comparison to the masses of people in Dhaka. Bangladesh is the most densely populated country in the world. And there are people everywhere. Traditional dress (the salwar kameez – identical to kurtis in Nepal - or a saree) is expected, and also the most convenient way to abide by the country’s expectations of women’s modesty with a long shirt and scarf included. As a general rule: cover the butt and chest twice.

Language is also a difficulty. For one thing, very few people (particularly in Mirpur) speak any English at all, and all my time spent learning Nepali is far less useful ajaabholi. But the fortunate thing is that Bengla and Nepali are very similar to one another (some numbers and foods are even identical), and working with the women has helped me start to pick up things pretty quickly. More than anything else, it’s just a matter of me facing the fact that I am really “starting over” in a sense. I’m in a new country, and that means there’s a lot of learning to do, both cultural and linguistic.

Traveling to work is always an adventure – it’s a little over an hour’s walk, or a bit shorter if we opt for a combination of rikshaws (bikes with a buggy attached) and/or busses. We went into the office on Saturday, but Sunday was my official first day as an intern at Hand & Cloth. My first task was essentially figuring out exactly which projects I’d be focusing on during my five weeks here.

the walk to work

Hand & Cloth is a business that produces kantha blankets, quilts made from two used sareees stitched together by hand. It was established here in Bangladesh only a month ago, meant to provide a means of employment for a group of women who have undergone training and counseling at Children’s Uplift Programme (CUP) for the past year. As CUP’s website explains, a mere year ago the women at CUP (and now Hand & Cloth) were “living on the streets surviving through begging for money or selling sex. Many have been trafficked abandoned by their husbands, suffered violence and exploitation. All were sexually exploited or at high risk of being so… a year later these women’s lives have been transformed.

sewing kanthas

I’ll be spending the majority of my time between teaching English to the women, doing “art therapy” activities with them, activities with their children in the daycare upstairs, and photographing and assisting with Hand & Cloth’s marketing. On my second day, I had the women participate in a sort of “therapeutic” art activity with the help of Jenny who translated for me. I had the women do finger painting in an effort to encourage them to practice expressing their emotions in a different way. But the catch was, their eyes had to be closed. We explained that we wanted them feeling what they were doing, expressing their thoughts through movement. It was a difficult task, particularly with something so unfamiliar to them. After the initial “blind” painting, they were allowed to open their eyes and continue their work. It all turned out beautiful. But more than that, I was stunned by what they had to say about their work afterwards. When asked what she painted and why, Jala said that she painted the moon and the stars because she used to look up at them and wish for a better future. A wish come true.