India!

I’ve arrived and all is well and so far, it’s been a good time! Sorry it’s taken so long to get a blog up, but I’ve pretty much just been dependent on Internet cafes and it wasn’t until now that I could get some wi-fi (so I can put up pics!) and a bit of time!

Warning! This is a long one! So, I’ve divided it into chapters!! That said, still don’t be afraid to skip my long complaints about how much I suck at navigating Agra, or this boring part at the beginning where I talk about my “feelings”.

Chapter 1: Coming to India

Let me just put you up to speed a bit on where I am, both physically and mentally.

Mentally first: So, when I first thought about going to India, I thought it would be the regular run-of-the-mill touristy trip. I’d hit up all the top sightseeing spots one after another – bam, bam, bam (not unlike Italy 2011 with Jess). But since then, lots have changed. I’ve had an incredible experience – an experience of a lifetime – in Bangladesh. I’ve learned so much and seen so much and experienced so much. And to be honest, that’s made me a little tired. Not physically tired, but more emotionally and mentally (see last blog post). So now that I’m in India, I have a new plan. I’m going to take the next three weeks to relax. Sure, I’m going to see the sights (see below for the Taj Mahal!!!!!) and I’m going to travel around, but I’m going to go at a slower pace. No, I might not see quite as much as I could, but frankly I don’t care. I think I’m actually more excited for it now that I’m expecting that it’s going to be more meditative than rushed.

I’m going to try to pick really spiritual places to visit. I want to use the religious ‘infrastructure’ that’s here not just as something to gawk at and take pictures of, but as something to help me contemplate my last few months and meditate a bit and ponder the world and the greater forces in it.

And so that’s how India has been so far.

Chapter 2: Jonathan

I landed in Delhi at about 11am on Thursday (and have only good things to say about Indira Gandhi International Airport. WOW. It’s clean, it’s beautiful, it’s helpful. It may very well be the nicest airport I’ve ever been in!) and took a cab to my hostel. It’s a fairly decent place. It’s in the diplomatic district, so the streets are lined with trees, and everything’s quiet. The hostel’s plain but clean, and has AC. THANK GOODNESS, because it’s brutally, BRUTALLY hot here. Unfortunately, it’s a good jog away from the metro and there are few landmarks around, and so I’ve gotten lost both times I walked to the station…

After getting my room, dropping off my stuff, etc, I headed out into Delhi. I took the metro, which is super nice (though heavily crowded) and can connect you pretty good to across the entire city. And in Old Delhi I met up with my friend Jonathan P from Canada. This guy’s the coolest. He’s one of the people who were so instrumental in getting me set up in Bangladesh. He’s going to be studying at the University of New Delhi starting next week, so he just got in too. He’s super busy, but has still found time for me. After we met, we got some delicious ice cream (litchi flavour!!!) and talked about Bangladesh life. It was so good for me. I needed that.

Then we headed to Jama Masjid: India’s largest mosque. It can fit a whopping 25 000 people, and regularly does just that. It’s from the 16^th century, so it’s not at all new, but it’s still a fully functioning mosque and is still in incredible condition. We burned our feet on the hot red ground (no shoes allowed), but made it into some shade where we could sit. It’s such an incredible building, and has a ton of detail. There are also lots of Muslims around, even when it’s not prayer time. We got quite a few stares (though NOTHING like Bangladesh, I’ll tell you), and got approached by some people, especially kids, who blurt out “How are you?” before getting too embarrassed to make eye contact. Lucky for us, Jonathan is really quite good in Hindi. So he could talk with those around us and translate for me (interestingly though, Hindi has a fair number of similarities to Bangla, so I can pick out words and SOMETIMES even understand the theme of someone’s sentence. It’s like when I hear Spanish and compare it to French). We stayed for quite a long time, just chatting and peacefully enjoying our surroundings, until we got kicked out because prayer was about to begin.

Trying to get the enormity of the Jama Masjid in one picture. Beautiful architecture. 

We went for dinner at a restaurant recommended both by Lonely Planet, and a friend of Jonathan’s. The tandoori chicken was quite good, but the kebabs! Oh, the kebabs! To die for. So delicious. Our meal was perhaps a little meat-heavy but oh so good. A nice way to be introduced to Indian cuisine.

The next day, I headed for the train station to buy some tickets. I definitely took my time there, so it took up quite a bit of my day (but I got some VERY MUCH NEEDED details sorted out; I can now relax at least for the next couple train rides). But when I was done there, I headed across the city to meet Jonathan again. This time, we hit up the Baha’i House of Worship, aka the Lotus Temple. It was AMAZING! It’s an architectural wonder (and made by an Iranian-Canadian too!) and inspiring just to see from a distance. Then when we actually got closer, it was even better! We got a briefing from staff about the Baha’i faith and the purpose of the temple: It’s a multi-faith prayer and meditation centre. So not just those of the Baha’i faith but literally EVERYONE is welcome. The inside is grand (no photographs allowed, sorry), with the amazingly high roof, beautiful marble seats and floors, and excellent acoustics. We took a seat and just meditated and meditated. There’s no limit for how long you can stay, so we took advantage of that a bit. This whole time, the whole room is completely silent. Then bird calls (real birds flying around the roof) ring out. They are such sweet, natural sounds, and they echo through the building. Then there was what I presume is the equivalent of a sermon. A rotation of 4 people (two men, two women) got up to the front and spoke or sang. Again the acoustics created shiver-causing echoes of pure beauty. Especially the singing. It was so gorgeous. This “sermon” was short too – it didn’t drag on. Just the right length of time.

Jonathan and I, with the Lotus Temple behind us.

When we finally left the actual building, we just stayed outside and chatted more – this time largely about religion and the Baha’i faith and that sort of thing. The perfect venue for it. And I really encourage you to take a moment to Google or Wikipedia search the Baha’i faith (because let’s be honest, if you're one of my regular readers, you don’t know much about it, do you?). It’s really quite interesting and moderate, and even pragmatic.

Just some comments on my first impressions of India: I’m so glad I went to Bangladesh first! India’s easier, in a lot of ways. And I feel truly acclimatized to some of the commonalities. When I get ripped off on a rickshaw ride, or basically run over trying to get on a subway, I can just laugh. I can understand the culture, if only just a bit, and take it in stride. There’s no point being angry, or complaining, or letting it get you down. You just move on!

India, or I guess specifically Delhi, also seems to be a real mix of Bangladesh and North America. Some neighbourhoods, like my hostel’s, could almost be Canadian. And some places I’ve seen are more like Mirpur. It’s such a variance!

Chapter 3: In Which I Show a Lot of Incompetence But Also See the Taj

Next, I was off to Agra, home of the famous Taj Mahal. All in all, I’d say my trip to Agra was a bit of a Fail, but at least I saw the highlights. I wanted to also go to the nearby village of Fatehpur Sikri, but my train was delayed (in retrospect, maybe I wouldn’t have had enough time anyway. I don’t know). By a lot. I listened to the announcements for other trains to Agra leaving from other platforms… If I had in fact tried to take a later train, I would have arrived earlier… And I couldn’t go anywhere, because I didn’t want to miss my train, plus I had all my luggage.

The train ride itself, my first in India, also took longer than it should have, so that added to my delay. I was in “sleeper” class, which is a second-class-level seating area. At night, you get a bunk, but during the day you share a bench. The other passengers who were already on the train (probably for lots and lots of hours) didn’t seem too pleased to see me, and even seemed to be questioning my reservation a bit with the ticket inspector (it was in Hindi, I’m only guessing). But actually, they turned out to be really nice (I’m still really bad at reading people in the subcontinent – it’s the same in Bangladesh; I think people dislike me automatically, but after a while I find they’re really interested in helping you out to the max). There were far more people in our cluster of seats than the allotted spaces, so it was pretty cramped (it’s not exactly spacious in the first place). But what was really interesting was the diversity around me. On my right were two devout Muslims, I think in training to become imams or something. One was white, too, and had difficulty in Hindi. But he also didn’t speak English, so I have no idea where he was from originally (he spoke Urdu to his Indian friend. Since many Muslims believe Urdu to be the holy language, that doesn’t help). On my left were two Punjabi Sikhs, who were actually also soldiers in the Indian army. And across from me was an average Hindu family. So neat for my first rail experience!

Finally arriving in Agra, I was exhausted and it was a little late to visit anything. So I just found a room (first try!) and walked around the nearby neighbourhood. I got some delicious Indian food – malai kofta: basically potato in a delicious vegetable curry sauce and then called it a night.

I had planned to get up early to see the Taj in the early morning light, but unfortunately I didn’t feel so well in the morning and took things a bit slow. Lucky, all cleared up by 10ish and I headed out again, set to see the sites. My hotel was mere steps from the Western Gate of the Taj, but my Lonely Planet told me that the South Gate has much shorter lines and a more impressive entrance. Since it was only about 300m away according to local signage, I thought I might as well go there. Then I got utterly lost, developed a blister already (how?!?! Same shoes as all of Bangladesh, and I had days with MORE walking!), and ended up at the EAST gate. “Ok, fine”, I thought, “I’ll just go in this gate”. But no, it’s not that simple! To get a ticket to the East Gate, you have to walk a kilometre further to the east. “Oh well,” thought I, “what’s 1km?” Of course, the kilometre turned out to be uphill and the sun was shining down with killer intensity. I think it was somewhere around here that I first developed my heat rash.

Finally I got a ticket. Now tired of walking, I overpaid a rickshaw-wallah to coast back down the hill with me in the back. I went towards the gate. “Finally, I’ll get in!”

NOPE. I had my laptop in my backpack, and that’s a no-no for the Taj. They told me I would have to go ALL the way back up to the top of the hill and deposit my bag in the lockers there. GAH!

Then I had a clever thought: “Why don’t I backtrack to the South Gate (I’ll ask for directions) and just deposit my bag there? Then I’ll avoid the hill!” So I did that, and managed to find the South Gate alright (though it was very poorly marked. Luckily there was an Asian couple a few metres ahead who were getting lead there). I deposited my bag. I headed to security and presented my ticket… WHICH HAD ALREADY BEEN STAMPED AT THE EAST GATE!!! The guy didn’t want to let me in. He thought I was trying to reuse someone else’s ticket (it didn’t help that I had unceremoniously crumpled it into my pocket in anger). But I explained and begged and another security guard seemed to like me and he told me to just go in. FINALLY!

After all that, the Taj Mahal was worth it. It is truly, truly a beautiful building. My pictures aren’t all that great (kinda an overcast day), but I think that even the best you can find online don’t do it justice. Its immensity, its design, and its story are all beautiful. Shah Jahan, its creator, must have really loved his wife…

The Taj Mahal. What a sight! Pictures don't do it justice.

Something I really appreciate about the Taj (and many other sites I’ve seen in India) is it’s not quite as directed as sights in Europe or North America. I mean, you have a lot more freedom for the path you choose. Inside the Taj itself, you had to follow the directed route, but otherwise you’re basically free to just wander whichever which way, at your own pace. The mosque and“jawab” (just built for symmetry with the mosque) are also beautiful in their own rights. If they were at a different location, people would probably also flock to see them (though you can’t go inside them).

Another note of complaint from me: I was wearing my sunglasses and had left my regular glasses in my checked bag. This was fine outside, but made it really difficult to properly appreciate the intricate patterns of precious stones in the already-dark inside… ugh. Fail.

There’s not much more point in describing the Taj: the whole thing’s gorgeous from every angle. Come visit me and see all my pics when I get home. Or better yet, plan a trip yourself. So let’s skip ahead until I leave the Taj grounds.

I took lunch at a little café – it was empty, which is normally a warning sign for Indian restaurants, but it had a glowing review in Lonely Planet. And the food – or, especially, the lassi – was worth it. But then I dined-and-dashed. Sort of. By accident.

So I finished my lunch all relaxed and casual. I was hot, my lassi was cold, and there was no rush of people looking to take my seat. The man who served me food took away my dishes, but then disappeared somewhere while I read my Lonely Planet, and so when I finished, I didn’t even think about money. I just walked out, la la la. I hailed a rickshaw and heckled a price and headed out. AND THEN REMEMBERED I DIDN’T PAY! Luckily, we hadn’t gone too far. I ran back up to the café, but actually had to wait for someone to show up, because it was deserted as much of staff as of customers. Finally a woman appeared and thought I wanted food. It took me a while to get her to understand that I was trying to PAY! Fail again.

Then I went to Agra Fort. It was another beautiful building, and I think I enjoyed it just as much as the Taj Mahal. I got an audio tour, but again, you’re allowed to wander very freely inside the walls, so I took advantage of that quite a bit too. I found some corners that were basically deserted and it was just me enjoying the beautiful, 16^th century palace. Some of it is rundown a bit over time, but other parts are very well maintained. And with the help of my audio guide, I got a really neat vision of what life must have been like for those ultra-wealthy Mughal emperors. It’s like the Versailles of the East.

Crumbling Mughal glory: Agra Fort

Having taken my time in the Fort, I just had time for a light dinner before catching my train back to Delhi. It was also a little late (not quite so much, thankfully), and also took longer than it should have. I was also in second-class seating (even less – much less – space than the sleeper class) so it was a little tight. Luckily, I had some conversation companions. I was squished beside a hilarious French couple, who also told me they were EXTRA delighted to have someone to speak to in French since they’ve only had their own broken English to rely on the past few weeks of their trip. And across from me were some young Americans, about my age, who were in India on a Mission Trip. So I didn’t get bored, even though I arrived in Delhi at midnight.

As a final FAIL to tie off my Agra trip, my taxi driver was a really jerk-head. He told me my price was fixed from the station to my hostel, and so I agreed, even though it seemed a little high (also, I was tired, and didn’t care, and was at a new station, so didn’t really know distances). But then as we drove into the city, he told me he didn’t know where my hostel was, even though he said he knew back at the train station. He had to stop for directions several times, but then upon finding out where it was told me the price would increase by 300 rupees (a considerable sum, in India) because it was farther than he thought. I was angry, and told him no, but then he just said he would stop where we were, then, and leave me there. It was the middle of nowhere and there were basically no cars around. Certainly no other taxis. Remember, it’s after midnight. So I had no choice to accept. Finally we arrived, but when I paid him (a truly exorbitant price) he tried to take even more for “his tip”. I LOST IT. I demanded the “tip” back and asked for his registration. The hostel security guard came out to see what was going on, and the man hastily retreated to his taxi. The security guard pieced together what happened, and was totally on my side. He also yelled at the taxi driver, but he drove away. Then the security guard told me I should have called the cops on him. I know that’s true, but unfortunately didn’t get his registration. I was too exhausted.

Chapter 4: Fantasy Rock Garden

The next morning, bright and early, I headed back to the train station, this time headed for the city of Chandigarh. I was in nicer seating for this ride; about equivalent to VIA, but with meals included and served (even for a relatively short journey). It was very nice. The only weird thing was that when I arrived at the station 3 different people tried to tell me my train was cancelled. They pretended to be station staff, but I guess they were scammers. Thing is, I can’t really think of what their motivation for saying that would be… if I believed them, I would just go exchange my ticket at the ticket office, and find out I had been lied to. I’d be out a bunch of money, but I don’t know how they’d get it… Anyway, I ALMOST believed them because I couldn’t see why they’d lie. I’m just really glad I didn’t and that I checked the platform myself! Comment if you think you know the scam please!

Chandigarh is a really interesting city that would especially appeal to Brother Nick and probably Evelyn too, because it’s all about urban-planning. The modernist planner Le Corbusier planned it, and it’s ultra-structured. It’s divided into numerous sectors, named by number (example, my hotel was in Sector 22-B), of roughly the same size. There are a lot of straight roads, but also a lot of trees and parks and green space. Whether or not you like the style, I think you have to appreciate the vision and its successful implementation. Chandigarh is also infinitely cleaner and quieter than Delhi, or other Indian cities I’ve heard of (though it has its moments too).

I only had ¾ of a day to see Chandigarh, so sightseeing was limited, especially since I also had to buy some more train tickets (= long lines). My first sightseeing destination was Nek Chand’s Fantasy Rock Garden. And yes, the place is as strange as the name. Here’s how the story goes (Cameron’s Adapted Version. Not responsible for historical inaccuracies, but I think I’ve got it down):

After Partition in 1947 (in which India and Pakistan came into being, separate from Britain and, importantly, each other. See Wikipedia: ), a lot of Muslims and Hindus crossed the borders to be “with their people”. One such person was Nek Chand, coming from Pakistan to India. India was also like, “Let’s build a cool new city where all these Muslim villagers used to live!!” So they tore down all these villages and got Le Corbusier (see Wikipeide: ) to design their new masterpiece city. Nek Chand was a civil servant in the area, and noticed the amount of garbage and debris from the demolished villages. He didn’t like it, so he started hording it off in some obscure corner of government land. Here, he began to make statues. And walls. And all manner of things, using this garbage. Smashed tile, old barrels, bags, everything. And he began to make a little rock garden of garbage-statues. 15 years later, it wasn’t really small anymore. Some other government employees came across it and were like “WTF Nek?!?! What is all this?!?!” It was on government land, and should have been demolished. But everyone agreed that it was actually all pretty cool. So they gave Nek a full time job and a bunch of employees to make his Fantasy Rock Garden into a real tourist attraction. And so it is. It’s a maze of waterfalls and (sometimes creepy) rock-people peering at you from strange places. Sometimes there are just a few here and there, other times there are entire armies of them. All in all, actually pretty cool! And a neat way to reuse garbage!





A minature army of recylced-garbage people.

After the Rock Garden, I retreated to the Rose Garden, which is a huge park with almost a hundred varieties of roses. It wasn’t prime rose season, the grass isn’t cut nearly as meticulously as it would be in North America, but it was a nice place to just relax and think.

Then I started getting approached by people, many of whom wanted me to buy homeopathic medicine (???) or who had other random bits of advice for me, and I decided my time in the park was finished for the evening.


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Now that I’ve tried to write this out, I have to stop before I’ve actually “caught up”. This post actually only puts us at the morning of the 24^th of July, but it’s just become too long, and I don’t have time to finish and post pics!

I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to post again, but I really hope I do. I have so many more stories to share! But I hope this at least gives a taste of what I’ve been up to.

Just for your curiosity (I’m assuming that if you’ve read this far, you’re kinda interested in what I’m doing), if you’re following along with a map/google searches of places I’ve been, my next destinations after Chandigarh were Shimla (favourite place so far!) and Amritsar, where I met my friend Priya. Then I came back to Delhi where I am now, and where I met up with Jonathan for a day again. Tomorrow morning, I’m off to Haridwar, then I’ll head to Varanasi with Jonathan next weekend. That’s the extent of my plans at this point!

So that’s that. I REALLY hope I can post at least one more time to catch you up on even just a few more of my crazy, hilarious, exciting, frustrating, mind-boggling and emotional experiences.

-C

Is that a statue to the Monkey-God Hanuman at the top of a small mountain in the Himalayas near a Temple where I had an incredible experience that I can't wait to tell you about? Why yes, yes it. Near Shimla. If I blog again, I'll tell the story. If not, make sure you ask me about it when I get home!

Tears

And now it’s time to say goodbye to Bangladesh.

It’s been a busy, hectic and exciting past few weeks, but tomorrow I leave the country! Hard to believe my time here is already over!

I don’t have time to write the kind of blog post I want to and should with the amount I’ve done, but I’ll try to touch on the highlights.

A big one was a visit from the Executive Director of Dipshikha to Rudrapur. He’s really an awesome man (more on that in a second). He also came with a new Dipshikha staff member at the Dhaka office named Jesmin. She’s really nice and I think she’ll be a great asset to Dipshikha. I’m also happy because she’s not replacing anyone – she’s an addition. This means Dipshikha is expanding – yay!

Mahbubul (the ED) and Jesmin spent most of their time in Rudrapur in meetings so I didn’t see much of them while they visited. But they also invited me to join them the next day on a visit of some other Dipshikha sites. I jumped on that in an instant! We went by private car (traveling in style!) first to Bakultala, in the Birghonj thana (thana basically means county. It’s just an administrative division, don’t worry about it). Bakultala is a small site, but with a lot going on. They listed for me all the projects they have going, but I don’t remember them all. But there was definitely an emphasis on credit and on income-generating activities. It was super exciting to hear about it all! We even got to sit in a few minutes on a workshop to develop entrepreneurial skills in local villagers. They were all of their own accord, and it was really great to see their earnest faces eager to learn! There were tea-shop owners, and rickshaw drivers, and cosmetics salesmen and farmers. So neat!!



Bokultala. A pretty little site! The Area Manager just to the right of the tree, then the Dipshikha ED, then Jesmin.

After Bakultala, we visited Bhobanipur (ok, I REALLY think I have the name slightly wrong. I have it written somewhere, but I’m not unpacking my suitcase again to find it. Normally they just call it Birghonj, because it’s in that thana). Again, Bhobanipur has a focus on income-generating activities and credit programs. We met some tailoring students, and they showed us these cloth strawberries they make. They then sell them to souvenir shops in Germany, and get a personal profit from the strawberries they make. It was cool, because it was really tangible. For each strawberry they make, they get 15 taka or something. Really cool!

After lunch in Bhobanipur (which was goat meat! My first time, and so good!!) we headed out to the field. This was one really cool experience. We drove out along some dusty, bumpy road into as rural an area as I think you can get. Then we visited a family (or rather, several families) who are Dipshikha beneficiaries. When we arrived, people just started streaming into the house –by the time we left, there were literally more than a hundred people (I counted) crowded around us! But what was really neat was Mahbubul walking me through the Dipshikha Family Development process. I got to see info cards for the family, where they record information about number of family members, income generation, education, health, and everything else you can imagine. Very thorough. Then we could see the report diary of visiting Dipshikha workers, where they record progresses and setbacks. And, we could see the family’s vision and plan for their future. They had recorded what their dreams are for their family: children graduating from college, a tin roof, some more land, a couple cows. We got to see the self-diagnostic programs, where families could rate their own levels of poverty based on several factors, and plot their own improvements as they achieve their goals. Then we got to see the cow the family bought with a Dipshikha credit loan (now paid off!), and their vegetable garden, and the daughter’s grade 7 notebook, which was supplied by Dipshikha too. It was a really good experience for me. I got to see some other aspects of Dipshikha and was very, very impressed by the work I saw. Dipshikha gives me hope for Bangladesh. They are doing genuine work for this country.

Returning to Rudrapur that night, my time essentially became a long drawn-out goodbye. For one thing, the high school students were saying goodbye first. They have a government exam at this time (lasting something like 11 days), which they actually complete in other schools. In fact, METI is not a government-approved high school. So, students are registered in 2 schools –METI, and a government school. They attend METI 5 days a week, then the government school on Saturdays (I’m only learning this now, of course). So, their last day at METI was the Thursday before I left Rudrapur, and for some, before that (they were taking a few extra days at the government school for practice exams, etc). So I had to say the very sad goodbyes, especially to grades 7 and 9, which I spent a LOT of time in, and who had really grown on me.

Then the next week was my last couple days with METI. My last day was the saddest. I didn’t teach any classes, just floated and took pictures and sang songs and tried to spend every last minute that I could with those beautiful children. Then when I finally went to the grade 5 class (who I’ve also spent a lot of time with) in the afternoon, I broke down. They had dozens of flowers for me, and gifts of all sorts. Once the crying started, it scarcely stopped. We had a football match – grades 3, 4, 5 – for which I managed to put my game-face on (we still lost), but then we had our closing ceremony for the day.

The students had prepared literally hundreds of flowers for me. Several of them came up to offer them to me. Then a couple students asked me some questions about my time in Bangla, and a couple gave short speeches. And then, each and every METI student (well, primary student) came up one by one to shake my hand, to get a hug (I can’t help but go on a tangent for a moment here. Only males could be hugged, since I’m a male. Hugging across the gender divide is seen as highly indecent, even among married people. This was tough for me, because of course the girls mean as much to me as the guys do. But I decided to maintain cultural appropriateness) and to say goodbye. SO SAD. :’(


When the students had finally streamed out, I had my last cup of tea with the staff members. Again, sad.

Then came my goodbye ceremony with DESI. Again, they offered me more flowers. They sang me songs, and made me sing, and even made me laugh a bit through my tears. But it was emotional for all of us and crying was, admittedly, the main theme.

But what’s most important is that I’m happy to have met them. That this goodbye is so difficult shows how much they’ve impacted me. How much they have taught me. How much they have come to mean to me. How much I will miss them. And how much I’ll remember them.

DESI: The best of friends.

My travel day back to Dhaka was another horrible one. After final goodbye hugs in the early hours of the morning to DESI and my closest METI friends who live nearby, as well as all the staff, I headed out by ‘van’ (they call it that in Bangladesh, but really it’s just a rickshaw with a flat wooden square being pulled, instead of a seat, so it’s practical for both people and goods) to catch my bus in the nearby village of Mongolpur.

The ride was terrible! What should have been a maximum 8 hour bus ride turned out to be more like 11 and half hours! We were held up by accidents and terrible traffic jams and my phone died so I couldn’t even call Dipshikha and was just left feeling anxious about that the whole ride (I really didn’t need to be. The Dipshikha staffer who was meeting me was getting regular updates from the bus office on our position. But he still had to wait a ridiculous amount of time for us to arrive). Exhausted, emotionally-drained, but back in good ol’ Dhaka.

Today, my last day in the country, I spent finishing up my final report, and then in a meeting with my supervisor, the Executive Director, and other Dipshikha staff. It was a good sharing opportunity, and they even presented me with a beautiful jute bag! I love this organization! They are so good! If you’re reading this, you should volunteer with them!

So that brings us to now. Tomorrow, I’m off to India! A whole other adventure awaits! I have no idea how much blogging time I’ll have in India – it’s only three weeks, and I’m moving a lot, and I don’t know how often I’ll get internet.  But I’ll try my best to get at least a few in, preferably with pictures!

-C



Me with (most of) the Grade 5 class. I love these kids.

P.S. I know there aren't very many pictures in this one, but I don't have too much time to wait for my internet to stop being silly. Early flight tomorrow, gotta get some sleep!!



The Great Ant Terror of June 2012

Rainy season is now well underway. It wasn’t hard to distinguish it from “the hot season”, since one day all of a sudden it just started raining – hard – and didn’t stop for the entire day. Every few days, this happens again. I love it because the temperature becomes bearable (as I write this, though, is actually an exception. I’m sweating like mad, and I’m just sitting under a fan, typing). Bearable temperatures have also meant that playing football (obviously soccer, not American) is now a possibility. The first day was definitely the most memorable. When we started, the clouds were just starting to roll in, and there was a comfortable breeze. And then the first drops fell and they almost immediately became torrential, and suddenly you’re slipping and sliding in the mud and laughing so hard that it hurts. When the game and the rain finally ended, I took to jumping and splashing in puddles like a six-year-old. It was awesome.

One of the most notable occurrences in recent days was the visit of Payal, a University of London Master’s student in Sustainable Architecture. One of the most interesting things about Payal, though, was that she’s from India; she’s only been in London a few months for study. So, she offered a really neat outlook on the experiences I’ve been having. Since she’s from India, she’s accustomed to eating with her hands, she can deal with the heat, and she’s habituated with poor infrastructure, bad government schools, and the like. But on the other hand, she’s an empowered woman – highly ambitious and in complete rejection of the implicit and explicit sexism that underlies Bangladeshi society. Also, she grew up speaking English, and so also watches English movies, reads English books, and uses other English media. So, her outlook was a bit of a mix between my Western view and the local one. This made her a really good conversation partner and I think she really helped me to begin processing a lot of what I’m experiencing. I could openly share my frustrations, observations and other thoughts with her (and, since she’s the only perfectly-fluent English speaker I’ve met in Bangladesh, I could do so with zero difficulty), and she could respond with her own commentary on what she noted and expected, what she understood and didn’t understand. It was really good, and at this point in my trip really refreshing in a lot of ways.

Candid shot of Payal with some METI students (notably Porimol on the left - the Dipshikha chef's son)

Payal also did an amazing job in pushing some boundaries (in a really healthy way) in the short 5 days she was here. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this, but Roman’s wife (who you may remember from the post “The Long and Winding Road”) has come to Dipshikha on a more permanent basis. She has a little room in the back corner of the Dipshikha compound, where she spends most of her time. But Payal didn’t just accept this to be the way things are. She talked for hours with my “Bhabi” (this means brother’s wife, and it’s what Roman and his wifre have asked me to refer to as), built her trust quickly, and learned that Bhabi’s quite simply bored. Her life is basically cooking and cleaning, with chunks of time between breakfast and lunch, and lunch and dinner when she literally has nothing to do. I don’t know how much Payal’s advice will affect Bhabi long-term, but she was urging Bhabi to ask for a teaching position in the school, to offer an optional drawing class for students (Bhabi’s one hobby is art), or to at least help Kalpana with the JK class (there are 41 5-7 year olds. Help is always needed).

While Payal was here, she naturally got invited to a ton of houses, and some I was invited to tag along as well. One in particular was Ram-mamma’s. I have no idea if that’s really what his name is, or if it’s like a title, or if I’m not even hearing people correctly when they say it, but that’s what it sounds like to me. Anyway, he’s one of the Dipshikha caretakers. He invited use to his home, just steps from Dipshikha. And then he fed us an ENORMOUS amount of food, from homemade potato chips, to mangoes. And somehow Payal managed to guilt me into eating most of it all, while she just ate while Ram-mamma was looking… It was generally a pleasant visit, but when we left I was stuffed and guess what? It was now dinner time. Neither of us were hungry, so we decided to save our dinner for a couple of hours and eat with Roman and Bhabi (who generally eat much later than dinner is served for the rest of us). But, just our luck, Bhabi had prepared some special dishes just for us. So basically, I ended up eating three dinners. Three Bangladesh-sized dinners. It was ridiculous. I actually don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much, including all my Thanksgiving turkey binges. I literally couldn’t shove anything more down my throat by the time I gave up on dinner 3. Sweetie and Don enjoyed a nice meal instead (if you don’t know who I’m talking about, it’s because you haven’t been reading my blog properly. Shame on you.).

In other news, my room – and particularly my bathroom – have reached new levels of terrifying over the past few weeks. One major scare was the appearance of a giant spider, deciding to take up permanent residence in my bathroom. She was probably a good 3 or so in diameter, and visibly furry. And worst of all, her eyes. They were big and glinted in the light and I felt she was watching me. She didn’t seem to fear me at all – if I made noises or threatening gestures she would (unlike cockroaches, who are chickens) actually approach me. Maybe she knew I was bluffing. Anyway, it was bad enough when she was just lurking on the wall. But then she migrated to the toilet-paper dispenser. Every time I entered the bathroom, I would have to locate her, and keep an eye on her in case she decided to dart towards me. Then one day, I came in, and couldn’t see her anywhere. I hoped she had died, but then had a sudden thought (thankfully). I checked my bath towel. Sure enough, there she is. Ugh, I’m literally shivering just remembering it. It was terrifying. I’m not a spider-fan at the best of times. One day she disappeared for good, and again I hope that she died somewhere out of sight (I’m confident that my ant friends would deal with her body), or that she decided to leave my room (and of course I mean ALL my rooms. Not just bathroom. I’m just trying not to imagine her having migrated to the main room, where she might run across my foot or find her way into the pocket of my backpack or something…

The other major insect-in-the-bathroom scare came from the otherwise generally benign ants. Yes, I’ve known there was a colony living in the door frame of the bathroom since I arrived. Sometimes they crawl up me while I’m brushing my teeth, but they were generally harmless and we coexisted peacefully. Then came The Great Ant Terror of June 2012. It started one ordinary morning when I went to take a shower. While I routinely emptied my bladder (beautiful imagery, I know), I noticed the ants to be a little feisty that day. They were crawling up my leg pretty quickly, in pretty large numbers. But this had happened before. No big deal.  I swept them off, stopped on a few around my feet (I like to think that the subsequent ant behaviour was a concerted reaction to this mini-massacre) and turned to brush my teeth.
But now there were more on my legs. Too many to brush off. It was like a horror film. I started killing them indiscriminately, stopping and swatting. But the more I killed, the more seemed to be crawling on me. And then in horror I look towards the crevice where they live and see a literal black wave swarming towards me (think orc legions in Lord of the Rings). I just had enough time to jump over the horde back into the main bedroom before the entire bathroom floor was covered in ants. Then the walls too. I swear, everything was covered. It was so terrifying. Above all else, I hoped they wouldn’t migrate into my bedroom. I tried to remain calm going to breakfast, but I let Ram-mamma know right away. He didn’t seem all too concerned and it wasn’t until several hours later (all the while, I’m imagining them all over my room. Though I did cautiously check in and they were still only infesting the bathroom) that he finally asked for my key to let him check it out. Of course, the bathroom was now barren. I tried to explain that it was really bad. But he just offered to clean the room. It was like a dream, but I saw it. I know I did. I’m never going to be so trusting of ants every again. In fact, I just may have developed a new fear…

You're so cool!

There’s an interesting animal I’ve seen around Diphshikha pretty regularly lately (see above). It’s some kind of lizard, though the exact type, I don’t know. I challenge you to find out and comment (yes, Mom and Julien, you can use Google). I think it’s pretty cool. But apparently its saliva is poisonous and it’ll spit it at you if you get too close (I haven’t seen this happen, even when the dogs chase it and get pretty darn close…). It also makes this growling sound when it’s angry and puffs its chest. Kinda neat.

Jackfruit! Remember that fruit that none of you could identify way-back-when? I’ve tasted it. Actually, quite a few times! And I really like it! As I mentioned before, I had heard that foreigners don’t tend to like it, and Melinda J. in particular had me worried that I would hate it. Instead, I think it’s quite good! Filling, but with a taste a bit like bananas. And a juicy, squishy, sticky texture.

Which reminds me. Because the jackfruits are in season now, sometimes when they reach the correct ripeness, they fall naturally from the tree. By coincidence, this happened on my roof a few days ago. Those things are huge now, so it made a terrifying 'boom' (especially on the metal roof) that scared me into questioning the structural integrity of my building. Luckily, when I rushed outside, the culprit lay smashed just outside the gate.

The other time falling fruit provides interest is when it's a mango. Particularly in the 'back corner' of Dipshikha where Bhabi lives. There are a few other rooms where Fahim's (grade 4 student - mentioned him before), two METI teachers' and another Dipshikha staff member's families live. When a mango drops from a tree and hits the metal roof, there's a mad dash out of every door. Every family seems to have a representative ready to dash outside. It's hilarious to watch, especially at night when everyone's stumbling around with a flashlight trying to find the mango!

Happy Canada Day! Of course, that was a few days back, but some of you might be wondering how I celebrated. Obviously, Canada Day isn’t widely observed here, so most of my celebrations were very personal. I made a playlist on my iPod of all the Canadian artists I have, and especially listened to Gordon Lightfoot a lot. I ate the 2 Swedish Berries I had been saving since the plane ride just for this occasion as a reminder of home. And I dreamed of Canada and family and friends!
I didn’t exactly tell everyone about Canada Day, but some reason I just felt excited about it in the morning and couldn’t help telling some people, like Rashid, since he’s experienced it in Canada before. He went on to tell a lot of the METI students, so that partway through the day, everyone was wishing me a Happy Canada Day. My grade 7 class even picked red flowers for me, which I stuck in my hat. It was a quiet day, yes, but a nice one.

That afternoon, I was also invited to visit the home of one of these grade 7 students, by the name of Jibon. We went by bike (me perched on the back of his, that is) and it was about 4 or 5 kilometres away. As I’ve learned already, a visit to one’s person house is very rarely only that. Normally, you also visit the homes of brothers, sisters, uncles or cousins as well, and this time was no exception. We stopped in at Jibon’s sister’s place, and then his uncle’s. At both places, we ate. Or, I ate to be precise. A lot. Mangoes mostly, but also eggs and bananas. Then we finally got to Jibon’s where I ate again, and was drilled with the usual questions from the family about my country and family, etc. It was generally a really good visit. Jibon’s a good kid, at me accepting his invitation seemed to make him very, very happy, so that’s good. I guess now’s as good a time as any to just talk about my students. Classes 9, 7 and 5 in particular are classes that I visit very regularly. The kids are all awesome and I know I’m really going to miss them! Then there are students from all the other classes, from the adorable JK kids to the giggly grade 4 class to the polite and mature grade 10 class. I’ll miss them all!



My ridiculous Canada Day hat (compliments of the grade 7 class), with Fahim (left) and Matthew

Jibon (far left) with his family.

I have less than 2 weeks left here in Rudrapur (and I’m at Day 65 out of 100)! On the 17^th I head back to Dhaka for final report submissions and tying all the loose ends with Dipshikha off before heading out. How is that even possible?! I don’t know, but it’s true. I don’t want to be counting down days, but I sorta can’t help it. Not in a “I can’t wait to get out of here” way, but in the “how can I possibly say goodbye after such a short time” kind of way.

Oh well, I’m going to squeeze the most out of it as I can!

-C


Just tryin' to steal some goat babies!

House-Hopping

Imagine being the son of Bangladeshi villager. Your family has very little land – just room enough for your straw hut and a small grove of fruit trees. These trees are basically the family livelihood, providing enough fruit to sell in the local market. You’re in college (Bangladeshi college – grades 11 and 12) and hope to attend university when you’re done. It’ll be really expensive, but your family agrees that you should be able to scrape enough money to make it possible.

Now imagine that one day, there’s a fire. It starts maybe in your hut, or maybe the neighbours. Because the straw burns so quickly, we probably won’t ever know. But it spreads at incredible speed, incinerating all the huts in the area in just a few minutes. The huts are close enough to the fruit grove that the fire spread to them as well. Before anyone can act, all of your material possessions are burnt. You have no house, no source of income, and only the clothes on your back. Suddenly, the prospect of university is utterly destroyed…

This is Bakul’s life. [Note: I spelt his name as ‘Bokul’ before. I since learned the correct spelling, but it’s pronounced like my earlier version] His home is just outside of Bogdur (the nearest market), so he took me one day. He told me his story, and about why he’s registered in DESI. University is now not financially a possibility for him, but he wasn’t satisfied with not continuing his education. So DESI gives him the chance to still get a good career, but without the unbearable costs. Still, the fire and the damage it did seem to haunt him. He told me once (I’m paraphrasing), “If only it had been a thief. A thief takes your money or your things. But he doesn’t take your house and he doesn’t take your trees.”

I know Bakul is not the only student at DESI with stories that wrench at the heart. There is basically a unifying theme among the students: the family is just so poor, but want good things for their son. All the DESI students get in through good marks and an interview, so they’re all strong, hard-working, dedicated students who genuinely want to learn. They deserve the opportunities we get in Canada, arguably more than a lot of other university students I’ve met. This is just one reason why DESI is such an amazing project to me.

Bakul’s house is not the only DESI student’s house I’ve visited, nor do I expect it to be the last. Sometimes I wonder if by the time I leave, I’ll have visited everyone’s! Actually though, many of the houses I’ve visited are not the student’s true home. For example, one day my ‘Nana’ (see last post) asked me to come visit his home. He introduced me to his father, mother and siblings. We enjoyed some fresh, hot milk (delicious!) and it was overall a good time. But after we left, I found out that these weren’t his biological parents and siblings. Not that my Bipul(Nana's real name)’s adopted or anything, but he has a sort of surrogate family in the local area. His own family lives very far away, and so it’s not practical for him to ever visit, even on holidays. So, this local family offered to take Bipul in while he’s at DESI. I also learned that they’ve helped out other DESI students in various ways, including financial support. As far as I can tell, they have no true motivation for doing this other than that they are good people. It is incredibly inspiring to see their selflessness.

Me and my 'Nana'



Left to right: Shukumar (likely spelt Sukumar) and Shojib, with Shyamol and another DESI student who's name I ALWAYS forget (he's only one of two that I don't have down. I don't know why I always forget only them...) in the background

Another student, Shojib, also has a ‘surrogate’ family for the same reasons, and that family is actually my boss’, Sepal (the Dipshikha Rudrapur area manager). Shojib brought me on a weekend to meet the Sepal’s wife and see the property. They have a nice, relatively spacious home, and just a few steps outside there’s a really nice place to sit, look at the surrounding rice patties, and enjoy a light breeze. We spent a good while sitting there with Sepal and some locals, where I noticed again improvements in my Bangla. I think for a while there I got a bit lazy (because I  can get by quite well with Roman and Uttam and at least a handful of the DESI guys just in English), but have recommitted. I can now fairly easily understand the ‘regular’ questions I often get: Name, country, profession, family members, etc. Anyway, after a bit Sepal’s wife offered us some food. Lucky for me, mango season has properly begun so that was definitely on the menu. We mashed them (by hand, ourselves) and mixed them with fresh milk and what we at home would basically call Rice Krispies. It made a delicious treat (But difficult to eat with your hand)! Also, I managed to embarrass myself when mashing the mangoes. As I squeezed one, it shot out of my hand and my hosts exploded in laughter. The story has since been told numerous times by Shojib.

On the topic of fresh mangoes, Kalpana has also had me back to her house several times. Kalpana (pronounced Kolpona) is the METI teacher I mentioned before who teaches Bristi and served me green mangoes (last post). Now that mangoes are in season, she’s invited me several times after school to enjoy a little treat; she lives quite close to METI. She’s also served me jackfruit, the weird looking thing none of you could identify a few posts ago. I was a bit nervous taking my first bite since I had heard horror stories about the smell and taste for foreign. Apparently, they tend not to like it. However, I think it’s DELICIOUS! Very sweet and in my opinion, a little bit reminiscent of banana.

Kalpana has shown herself to be a very interesting person. As I said her English is quite good, and it’s actually better than I thought. She is definitely in the top three for METI staff in English. Anyway, it’s allowed her to tell me many interesting stories. One is that she’s been to Germany. She went to observe schools there through Dipshikha’s German donor, but it’s interesting to me because it’s not often that you meet a Bangladeshi who’s been to the developed world, especially for as long as three months, as Kalpana has. The other really interesting thing I’ve learned from her is that while she only has one biological daughter of her own, she is caring for I think at least 4 other children, who are all, I think, her sister’s. Because her sister is poor and uneducated, Kalpana has taken on full responsibility of them. They live at her house, she buys their clothing and serves them food, and she is paying for their education – college and university both. It’s quite amazing to me, especially since while I think her family is fairly well off (considering the size of their property and the number of animals and fruit trees they have), I also know that a METI teacher’s salary isn’t exactly wonderful (less than teacher salaries at other schools, which are already not very high). Again, it can only be explained, for me, as true, inspiring selflessness.

Perhaps the biggest highlight since my last post was a small Hindu celebration we attended. It was at the same place as the village fair I mentioned in the last post (they were only a few days apart. Somehow they were related, but I’m not exactly sure what that ‘how’ is). There were much less people than during the fair, probably because there were far fewer shops and no ‘peripheral’ attractions like games or rides (Muslims, for example, would have no motivation to attend). Though I’m not at all positive, from my research I think this day was important because it was a new moon in the Hindu month of Jyeshta. This makes it significant to the Hindu god Kali, who appears to be the main deity for the local Hindus.

The shops that were around were mainly for food, and some specific Hindu-related vendors (such as those who sell white bracelets made of shell, which married Hindu women wear). But the main event was a live sacrifice of goats. Yes, that’s right. I wasn’t expecting it (nobody warned me until we were in the crowd, pushing to the front), but I actually feel so fortunate now to have been able to experience it. Many goats were sacrificed – their heads were bolted into place and then in one swoosh they were rolling on the ground. I don’t want to get too gory here in my descriptions, and already I feel as though some of you readers are squirming in your seats. But to be honest, the whole thing didn’t bother me as much as I thought seeing a live animal sacrifice would. Those who’ve known me since my France days will know that I’ve seen a bullfight. I would consider that to be a much less desirable thing to see, and would say that they probably can’t even be put in the same category. The sacrifice seemed like such a genuine, human action: when the goat was strapped in place, the soon-to-be-beheader would make a visible and deliberate prayer to Kali, and then once the goat was dead, its blood was poured at the entrance to Kali’s temple, which was just steps away. While I’m not a Hindu and don’t believe in Kali as a god, there was beauty, for me, in the fact that this sacrifice was made in her name. Rereading what I’ve just written, I don’t think I’ve really conveyed that beauty very well. But maybe you can trust me that the live it is so much different than to just read about it. Oh, and maybe it will make you happy to know that the goat meat of the sacrificed goat is subsequently eaten by the locals.

A goat in place for the sacrifice. A little blurry, but actually the best non-graphic one I got. Everyone was pushing and jostling and everything was happening so quickly that it was hard to get a good shot.

I’ve taken to going for walks fairly regularly in the afternoons after school. Bidan, of DESI, is my particularly enthusiastic walking partner, though we usually can convince others to join us. One day, Bidan brought me to a really neat temple not too far away (but that we got to by weaving through fields of maize and jute – really a cool experience). It’s just a local temple, again to Kali, and the building itself isn’t much to see. But inside (behind a fence, that is) there’s an amazing and intricate sculpture of Kali which I found really beautiful. Here's a photo, which can’t really give you a proper sense of the size, but oh well.

Kali, in a local temple.

On another walk, Bidan and Noruttam (another student we were with) suddenly pointed up excited into the tops of the trees. I looked and was gleefully surprised to see bats. But not just little things flitting around like you see during an Ontarian evening. These were huge, like the size of a crow or something. I thought at first that they were flying squirrels because they were so big, but they were definitely actively flying, not gliding. So cool!

Big bat!

Work is still going well, but I’ll save the few stories I have from that for another post.

For now, that's all I have to tell! I know I've been pretty bad at posting regularly, so I'll try to get back into things with more regular postings. I think you’d all agree that shorter but regular is better than almost-never and dreadfully-long. I’ll try my best (I’m busy, you know)!

By the way, we’re at day 50! Exactly halfway through! I really can’t believe I’ve been here this long, or that I only have less than a month left in Rudrapur!

-C

And Bingo Was His Name

A quick housekeeping note: In last post, I incorrectly identified Roman’s in-laws (wife’s parents) as his parents. Sorry.  I hope this didn’t cause you all too much inconvenience.

I apologize for leaving this blog post for so long. It’s just that I’ve been busy, believe it or not. I might as well start telling the stories! Since I have so many little things to say, I might jump around a bit. I hope that’s ok and not too difficult to follow. Definitely won’t really be in chronological order.

First of all, let me talk about work. My first real-real day of work, I met my on-site supervisor, Rashid. He’s a very nice man, and easily is the most fluent in English on-site. This is mainly because he did a Master’s degree at the University of Western Ontario (sorry, Western University). I’m pretty sure, actually, that he was there at the same time as Mom was! Kind of a neat coincidence!

Anyway this first day, we sort of did another tour, but in a more detailed, hands-on fashion. We started the day (9am) at the ‘opening session’ which happens every day. The students from all classes sit in this big room and sing the national anthem, meditate for about 10 minutes, and share their thoughts with their peers. I was introduced to everyone, and then when classes started, we began circulating through them. We stopped in every classroom and I was introduced again to the students and the teacher. It allowed me some opportunity to speak with the kids, and for them to ask me some questions. In some classes we stayed longer than others- for example, in Bristi (say brish-tee – the Bangla word for rain; all classes have water-based names but usually they aren’t used. Bristi and Jhorno [river] are the exceptions: JK and SK equivalents respectively) we helped the students form English letters properly. I thought it was pretty neat that at the same time that these JK students are learning to write the Bangla script, they’re also learning the English script! English is so important for students, because it’s critical for any job or education that deals with foreigners or foreign products (that is, all the desirable ones), which is the ultimate goal for everyone.

Throughout this more detailed “tour”, I tried to take note of classroom atmospheres, student-teacher relations, and, where possible given my weak Bangla, staff and student performance. This is basically what I spend half of my time doing now on a regular work day. I am supposed to be assessing all of these things and looking at areas for improvement. Eventually (and hopefully starting soon), I’ll make recommendations on how these improvements can come about. But for now I am still largely in the observation stage. I’ll basically just sit in on a class, or a staff meeting, or a discussion between Rashid and a teacher and make note of what I see. At this point, a major focus I’m developing is on poor-achieving students. In one particular class of 30 students, for example, almost a third of them are failing in several subjects. I want to find out why, and see what supports are available in the METI system to help deal with these issues.

The other half of my time is basically spent on teaching English or helping teachers plan their English lessons. I rotate through the grades, taking usually two or three per day. My focus is mostly on the upper-years (grades 7-10), but sometimes I will also take a younger grade. Despite the drudgery that is marking papers, I don’t mind this teaching so much, because the students are all fun and interesting to work with. But I’m hoping that my work can take more of a long-term-benefit focus (ie. How I spend the other half of my time). The teachers really like when I teach (and, as I mentioned, help them plan their own classes when I can’t be there) because, as they tell me, they are often very poorly qualified to be teaching this subject. Most have not had any formalized English education beyond their own high school days. With me and among each other, they admit their weaknesses, but in the classroom, they often won’t admit this to their students. So sometimes there are awkward moments in which the students seem to know something better than the teacher, but the teacher pretends they are confident in their position. I try to help in these cases, but only if I feel I won’t be making the teacher look unknowledgeable. I know that it would be pretty embarrassing to have a 19 year old tell you you’re wrong in front of your students…

Spoken English is not emphasized in the curriculum here. On the examinations required to pass high school, there are no oral exams. This, to me, is problematic for me for 2 reasons. First of all, because when I teach a class, they often have difficulty understanding me and/or responding in English. The second reason is that spoken English is actually probably the most important and practical application of the language for these students in the context of English as the “International Language”. Their grammar is generally fairly solid (or at least, it will need to be to pass their exams), and so their main issue if studying/working abroad or working with foreigners would be the ability to communicate orally. The teachers are mostly lacking in this area too, and so this is another area I’m focussing on. Is there anything I can do to help improve spoken English? Already, some of my English classes with the younger grades (4,5) have emphasized pronunciation. I hope this is helpful.

Back to that first day: I also taught an English lecture for the DESI students in the afternoon of that day, since they also have English class covered by one of the METI teachers. I talked mostly about Canada and its context within the English language, and about the culture. I was surprised to learn when I arrived at METI/DESI that most people don’t really understand at first that my first language is English. METI/DESI receives a relatively fair number of foreign visitors, but most are Germans, Swiss, Koreans or Japanese. They will always communicate with these visitors in a common language – English. But, of course, it’s always the second language for both speakers. It was very difficult to convince the cook, for example, on the first day that English was my mother tongue. He was telling me the Bangla names of foods, and then the English word, then the German word which he had learned, and then asking me what my local language called it. I would repeat the English word, not really understanding at first. He was surprised: “Same as English?” When it finally clicked for me, I explained it was mother tongue. He seemed outright shocked!

One of the most common things I am asked when I enter a class, regardless of the age group (though apparently only when the regular teacher isn’t in the room for older grades) is to sing. I don’t consider myself much of a singer and being put on the spot to sing is not a terribly pleasant experience for me. I also don’t really have any good songs memorized, let alone Canadian ones, so I’ve so far basically limited myself to O Canada and Land of the Silver Birch. With the younger kids, I’ve sang The Itsy Bitsy Spider and Old MacDonald (the animal noises were lost on them. I read an article once that animal noises vary incredibly between languages. That is to say, while we would say, “a sheep says ‘Baa’”, another language might say [just an example for the sake of the point] “a sheep says ‘Meh’”). Bristi always asks me to sing Hello, Good Morning but I had no idea what song that was. I’ve now learned it from them. They also ask for Bingo Was His Name. I thought I had that one covered, but when I sang it I got confused looks from the kids. It took me a while to understand why, and I’ll get to that later in the post.

In the afternoons, younger classes have ‘activities’ instead of classes. These vary from clay modelling to storytelling to group discussions. One afternoon I sat in on the grade 3 dance class. They have a special “Dance Master” who comes in to teach the students dance. Watching them, I was amazed. They are such good dancers, and dancing on the Indian subcontinent is always more interesting than North American dancing anyway. The fact that they were grade 3s just absolutely boggled my mind. I think of grade 3 still that age where your coordination with others can be a little weak. For these kids, not so. I didn’t get any pics or video (stupid me), but hopefully I’ll get the chance to see it again and get some then.

I thought I’d be working five days a week, but I’m actually working six here at METI/DESI. Saturday is not in fact a holiday for me, because METI is open. Not for students, just staff. Teachers use Saturdays to do marking and deal with issues from the previous week, and make lesson plans and coordinate activities for the upcoming week. It’s pretty laid back though, and I probably really only call it a half day worth of work. We take a liberal number of cha breaks, and sometimes Roman asks me to accompany him to the market in the afternoon. Speaking of cha breaks, we take them during school days too. Students have a 20 minute break that I’d call a “recess” around 11:30, and all of us teachers head across the street to the little tea stall. At the end of the day, we often go again. I love it.

One Saturday, Roman took me to Kaharole, which is a larger centre nearby. While Bogdur is a market for essentials, Kaharole has a much bigger market, and for things like bulk rice that’s where the staff buys food. We met the two cooks there, and bought a ton of food. The market was crazy, with (thinking back to Dhaka) ridiculously large crowds. A lot of people seemed to buying cows and herding them through the narrow streets. There was a section of the market that had about half an inch of water on the ground because that’s where the fish salesmen were and water was continuously being splashed and dumped. I saw an eel for sale. Apparently you can eat them. A man tried to sell me a goat, which I found delightful because they are so dang cute. We also bought some delicious fudge-like candy, made with the sugar from dates mixed with nuts. They are absolutely delicious and (since they’re sooo cheap) I stocked up on a bunch for my room. We ended the day with a nice bunch of litchis. They are now in  prime season here in Dinajpur district, which is also, incidentally, famous for its litchis. DREAM COME TRUE. They are indeed fantastic.

Back to the goats for a minute. I’ve had a special request to talk about them more. I’d love to. Have I mentioned that I love them? I don’t really want to touch them because of the potential for ticks or lice or whatever else they might carry, but it takes all my willpower not to grab them and hug them. On a walk with Uttam, he saw me smiling at goat-babies and asked me why, and I explained to him that I find them adorable. He thought this was hilarious. I see goats everywhere, because they are always along the side of the road, and in fields, and sometimes one even wanders into Dipshikha to graze. Today also saw a little one do this impressive run-jump-360-degree-spin trick which really entertained me.

Some goats playing on logs and such. I need a better picture to illustrate their cuteness. New goal for this week.

 Along with grazing goats and cows, there are a handful of dogs that live at Dipshikha. I don’t think they’re really pets per se, because no one really claims them as their own. The sleep outside and I think the majority of their food is scraps from meals. Maybe the cooks also feed them more, I don’t know. Anyway, a couple are really ratty-looking, but a couple others are much nicer. Arjun, the DESI student who showed me around at the Temple last post, is fond of them and has named two of the nice looking ones Sweetie and Don. I generally don’t touch them, again because of ticks and the like, but one day when I was sitting outside the METI classrooms, Sweetie and another dog (who looks like Sweetie. I can’t tell them apart) ran up to me and lick-attacked me. Cute!



Sweetie and friend outside a METI building. I'm sure you're probably thinking "Why doesn't he post pictures of the building, not dogs?" I reply, "I'm waiting for a good sunny day to get really good pictures. So far, there's been a lot of cloudy days."

In the evenings, I often join the DESI guys back at their ‘hostel’ to hang out. Sometimes, we head to Bogdur, where the market is, for cha and bananas and whatever other errands someone needs to run. As I mentioned in the last post, they are very nice to me and we have become true friends. They make fun of me when I say “Mane ki?” (“What does that mean”) because I say it so often, and I now call one guy ‘Nana’ (Bangla for maternal grandfather) because he would tease me for the fact that I often said “no” twice when people would try to load me up with a third plate of rice: “Na, na” (No, no). He also calls me Nati (grandson) now. On the other hand, I have learned just enough Bangla to tease them back a bit. I can call them monkeys and say things which are roughly equivalent to “Get outta here!” and “Hey kid, shut up!” which provide more than adequate defenses against their jokes and pranks.

There’s a young boy who attends the METI school named Fahim (his actual name is way too long for me to follow, but I think I’ll have him write it out for me. Fahim is what everyone calls him, and this is my best estimate of the spelling. The ‘h’ is barely pronounced). His family actually lives on the Dipshikha property in some houses that are set back in a far corner. His mother works in the microcredit department of Dipshikha. Every school day, Fahim shakes my hand in the morning and evening and has a “good morning” or “good afternoon” always ready for me. He has a delightful smile, and is in grade 4. His class is particularly weak, but he is a very strong student (easily outstripping his classmates in every subject). His English is quite good for a grade 4, but overall not quite good enough for complicated conversation. But he’s very forgiving of my Bangla, and we chat every time we pass, be it during class time or afterwards.

One evening, he came knocking at my door with Bokul, the DESI student, who is very close with their family. Fahim had for me a lovely bunch of litchis!! His father owns a bunch of trees, and so he brought me some as a gift. He’s really a delightful kid. I chatted with Bokul and him for a while before, as usual, I was asked to sing. When I finished Land of the Silver Birch, I asked Fahim to sing for me. He told me he would sing an English song: Bingo Was His Name. The mystery of my singing of Bingo was now revealed. Fahim’s version had the same lyrics as the first verse of my version, but a different melody. It’s much slower, and there are other verses with the names Lucky and Lampi (I thought it was Lumpy at first haha) and another name I don’t remember. I have no idea where the students learned this version, but I’m guessing the German donors.

Bokul, Fahim and litchis

I have also met here a boy named Horipada. My friend Melinda met him when she visited here, and so we both knew of the other before I arrived. He just finished his SSC (grade 10) in February and got excellent marks, meaning he’ll be attending ‘college’ (grade 11 and 12) soon. He’s a very chatty and welcoming kid, and invited me right away to visit his home nearby. We went on a Friday, by motorcycle. Roman and Sepal (my on-site boss) both also use a motorcycle, so I ride it often. Before Granny panics (I know motorcycles have such a bad rep in Canada – so dangerous), I just want to say that comparatively, I find the motorcycle to be one of the safest modes of transport I’ve ridden in Bangladesh. Easily, it’s safer than everything in Dhaka, including rickshaws (you were at the bottom of the driving food chain), and their ability to avoid holes and ruts make them better than other vehicles on the narrow dirt roads. And, I’ll never be driving.

Anyway, Horipada took me on a ride around the area. We went to Kaharole, and visited a man named Gopi or something (who is, incidentally, the METI ‘Dance Master’), who also joined us.  We drove to Sangra National Park, which was a nice, shady forest that was a nice break from the hot sun. We didn’t spend a long time there, mostly just driving around the narrow paths on the motorcycle. I saw some interesting birds, but I can’t identify them. I couldn’t get a picture, either, unfortunately. After a couple stops at random relatives houses and in Kaharole again for some tasty mishti (actually the best I’ve had in Bangladesh so far), we finally got to Horipada’s house. His whole family was there, plus an innumerable number of neighbours, and it was hard to keep track of everyone. But, the food was absolutely delicious, from a sort of sweet rice pudding, to fresh mango, to delicious potato curry. Horipada’s family is certainly not wealthy but they were very welcoming. Here they are and a shot of their home:

Horipada's home. His mother on the left and a relative and/or neighbour on the right. They are sweeping rice (I guess to dry it)



Horipada's family. If I'm not mistaken, back row left to right: Brother with baby, Horipada, brother. Front row left to right: Mother, sister, Father

Sangra Forest

A few days ago there was a village fair nearby. It was just one day, and Roman took me over on the motorbike. It was a huge swarm of people, larger than I expected to see in the rural area, and all in one place. Of course, I was a big centre of attention. One man literally wouldn’t let us pass until he had asked his fill of questions (one of which was “Did he come by plane?” Roman replied, “I don’t know,” and we still laugh about it). There was some music being played (drums) and I think some dancing, but the crowd was far too big and tight to force our way to the front (also I suspect, but am not sure, that Roman had zero desire to see it because it was traditional Hindu music and he’s Muslim). A lot of the DESI guys and some METI students were also around and we ran into a bunch of them (a nice rest from the staring). There were a lot of trinkets being sold, and I picked up some nice souvenirs (not telling what they are). There were a couple small carnival rides for kids, and some carnival-type games. I did pretty well at shooting the water balloons with a bee-bee gun, but not so well at the competition where you have to lower a ring around a bottle of pop in order to win it. The atmosphere was really cheery and it was nice to see so many families out having fun. As far as I can tell, it was a really big event for the local community. Ah, and how can I forget the food! There was so much being sold, but I avoided a lot of the fried stuff (safety inspections would fail them). Instead, mishti (of an extra-large variety) and some milk-cookie-things did just fine. It was a lovely afternoon.

Another afternoon, Roman brought me to the house of one of the METI teachers. She’s teachers Bristi, and has been with METI since its founding – the only original teacher left. She’s very nice and her English is above-average among the METI staff. Uttam and one of the DESI guys, Bidan, were doing some yard work for her (planting some trees and putting up a fence), and we just stopped in to see how things were going. The teacher has a nice bit of property, with a (relatively) roomy house, a lot of animals and several mango and litchi trees. We made a green mango salad. It’s just chopped unripe mangoes, chillies, salt, and sugar-cane molasses. It’s got a sweet and sour flavour and with the chillies made me sweat quite a bit. But still delicious! The teacher also has a cute, hyperactive son who’s in her Bristi class, and he’s always fun to be around too.

Now, it’s actually summer vacation for METI. It’s not a terribly long break (just over a week), but I am for the time being off of my regular schedule. Not that there isn’t plenty of work for me to do still, especially with DESI still running, where I’m also doing a bit of observing into the practices as well. But, it left me open one morning to join Sepal on a motorcycle ride to Biral, which is the local administrative centre (the administrative division is called an upazila). It’s about 10km away, to give you an idea, and this qualified as a “really long ride” by local terms. I’m not entirely sure why Sepal needed to go, but it gave me a really interesting look into the local bureaucracy. We went to the upazila education headquarters and met with the primary and secondary education officers for the upazila. They had limited English but wanting to feed me lots of tea and snacks and it was neat to see their work setting.

That’s the last story I can think of at this point. There may be others I wish to share, but if so, I’ll just sneak them into later posts. Again, I’m sorry for the wait and for the jumble of unrelated stories. I hope, at least, it gives a sense of how busy I’ve been!

-C

Bonus photo: A common sight around Rudrapur. Chillies drying in the open air. Don't ask me what the background writing says.