Big Yellow Taxi

There's a song by Joni Mitchell called "Big Yellow Taxi". One of the lines goes:

"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?"

This song has been going through my head a lot lately, because that line seems to be ridiculously true. Before leaving for Bangladesh, I was craving a change of scenery. I couldn't wait to get out of Canada. But now as I'm about halfway through my term, I find myself really looking forward to returning home. It's funny though because I'm really happy here. I like where I'm living, I like my job, I like everyone I work with. Most of the time I really don't want to be anywhere else. What I miss most about home is no doubt family and friends. A familiar culture and language are some other things I miss. Sometimes also the food (Bangladeshi food can get quite repetitive).

So now I need to get my head thinking about the meaning of those words for when I do come home. I know by this time next year I'll be in the thick of midterms and I'll be wishing I never left Bangladesh. I guess it's just the way these things work.

In other news, tomorrow I'm leaving for Sylhet for a five day learning tour with other REAP staff. We'll be visiting some local NGOs as well as visiting the tea gardens in Srimangal. Sylhet is basically across the country from Bogra, so I have a nice long bus ride to look forward to. Also, last week was Piyash's 2nd birthday. A bunch of people came over and we had special birthday food. It was a pretty good time.

Piyash getting help from his Grandpas

A Temporary Triumph

(I composed this "poem" on a ride from the office to AKB this morning after a stop at a bike shop. This is what happens when my ridiculous mind has an unfortunate amount of time on its hands. I thought you might find it amusing.)

As I rode my two-wheeled motion machine,

I could sense the presence of a force unseen.

Somewhere on my bike its coefficient was high,

As evidenced by pain in my left and right thighs.

I knew for a fact that my chain was well oiled,

The knowledge of which had me momentarily foiled.

Where O where could this culprit be,

That is making my commute true misery?

When suddenly upon me great insight bestowed.

Why not check the place where rubber meets road?

Surely my problems must be cowering there?

If so, its just a matter of getting more air.

So I got off the road, and pulled to the side,

And gracefully alit from my solid steel ride.

The air pressure was, as I found with a pinch,

Much less than the recommended pounds per square inch.

I found a small shop where a pump could be found,

After a little searching and looking around.

A bit later I was off, like a ball from a pitcher.

The man with the pump being five taka richer.

So the point of this story, (if there is one at all)

Should the fickle beast Friction ever summon the gall

To break down your bike, make it slow to a stall

I might have a solution, so give me a call.

The Slideshows of my Childhood

Growing up, MCC was a name I heard a lot. I had family that had worked or were working with MCC and I heard many stories of the good work they did. In the early 90's, when I was 4 or 5 some of my extended family members were working in Haiti with MCC. I remember after they came back, every once in a while they would lead the church service. This usually involved turning off the lights and wheeling in the the slide projector so we could see some pictures. I remember these church services vividly, which is saying something because I can't remember any other church services at that time in my life. In those days I usually spent the service under my chair eating Cheerios and colouring in my colouring book. On these occasions though, I would pay attention. I don't know if these memories are the reason why I decided to serve with MCC this year, but I'm fairly certain they played a part. So I have finally added some photos to Facebook, which is to this decade as the old school projector was to the last several. Except this way there's no chance on the wheel getting stuck, or pictures showing up upside down, or all the slides falling out all over the floor. If you wish to see these pictures, click here. You don't even need a Facebook account to see them. Who knows, maybe these photos will inspire someone else...

Ben

P.S. I will be adding photos to this album periodically, so feel free to keep checking it every once in a while.

A South Asian Christmas

Christmas in this part of the world is different than any Christmas I have experienced before. In Bangladesh, about 0.7% of the population is Christian, so the "Christmas Spirit" is markedly absent here. I really hardly thought about Christmas because I was counting down the days until my family came on the 22nd.

A lot has happened since my last post. My family came to visit on the 22nd, and we toured around Bangladesh a bit before heading to India for a family vacation. It was nice showing my family around Bangladesh. My Bangla is good enough now to get around with ease. I can explain to a rickshawalla to follow mine and my mom's rickshaw closely because my dad and brother don't speak Bangla, nor do they have any money. This is important. We spent the 23rd in Dhaka seeing the sights while trying not to get hit by traffic. The 24th we went to Mymensingh to visit some of MCC's projects there (see this post). That afternoon we headed over to Bogra. Christmas day was spent in Bogra. We had a brunch with the other MCCers and saw the AKB where I do some of my work. That evening we visited my house and had supper there. My host family prepared some great food and they were very happy to meet my family. I don't think my family was prepared for the amount of food they were expected to eat, but it was a good time nonetheless.

On the 27th we headed to India. Our first stop was in Jaipur, followed by Agra then Delhi. We saw some amazing old Mughal forts and palaces made of white marble and sandstone. I'll let my pictures do the talking. I would've liked to spend a month in India, but, alas, that was not possible. India in some ways is similar to Bangladesh and in other ways very different. The first thing I noticed was the lack of rickshaws. In Bangladesh rickshaws are anywhere with a significant human population (basically the entire country). And the rickshaws in India were really lame. They aren't jazzed up or anything, though they are a little bigger. We took a rickshaw ride in Old Delhi and our rickshawalla spoke English! What?! I guess that probably has something to do with tourism. Sometimes I wonder how different Bangladesh would be if tourists actually came here. It would probably be less fun. Anyway, here's some pictures of the Reesor family Christmas.

Rickshawing Bangladeshi style

Mom

The Pink Palace in Dhaka. An old Mughal fort.

Snake charmers in Jaipur

Elephants at the Amber Fort in Jaipur. Tourists can ride them.

Guy burning fibres off the back of a carpet.

You call that a rickshaw? Not nearly enough paint, chrome, streamers, sequins and old CDs.

Ganesha giving us luck on our journey.

There were a lot of people milling about here so we checked it out. Apparently it's kinda famous.

There are lots more pictures. Maybe I'll make a facebook album. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Ben

A big fat Hindu Wedding

This post is a little overdue. I went to a Hindu wedding a couple weekends ago. The wedding was for the daughter of my host family's landlord (I think). The reason I mention it was Hindu as opposed to "Bengali" is because Hindu and Muslim weddings are quite different. Hindu weddings are more "moja" which means happy. Not to say that Muslim weddings are bad, but that's how Bengalis describe the difference. I must say this Hindu wedding made our tradition back home look like a funeral. I'm not even exaggerating. It's a little depressing.

Anyway, the night of the wedding I got ready at around 9 pm. I put on my panjabi (see previous Eid post) and headed to supper with my family. We ate (early) in a big tent. I went back home briefly and boudi put Piyash to bed. Then I went out with my host brother to the main event. The groom was sitting on the ground under a small tent with a couple priests. I think they were blessing/praying for him.

Did I mention he was wearing a huge hat?

There was a guy with a video camera and spotlight there and as soon as he saw me, he pointed the camera in my direction. So now there's about 15 seconds of footage of a bideshi looking like a deer in headlights on that couple's wedding tape. Anyway, my host brother hadn't eaten yet, so we went to another food tent. I didn't want to go because I had eaten and I knew if I sat down in the food tent I would get food. But there was nothing I could do, so I just rolled with it. You do that a lot in Bangladesh.

Well after my second supper (around 11 pm), we went back to the ceremony again. We left soon after to go to the place I ate my first supper. This is where the actual ceremony would take place. On the way we got some paan, which I tried for the first time. It consists of a betel leaf with areca nut inside. Didn't really like it very much. I suppose its an acquired taste.

We waited for a while then we heard the band coming in the distance. We walked to the entrance and saw the groom being carried on someones shoulder into the compound. The band was very loud but joyful. The ceremony continued under a similar little tent. At this place the bride was in a room with a bunch of other women (including my kaki-ma). At one point the bride and all the women started crying loudly. I don't know if they were genuinely sad or whether it was part of the ritual.

The bride, if you didn't guess already

I ended up leaving around 2 am. I didn't see the couple when they were actually married, but I was tired. Apparently the celebrations continued the next day. I'll try to upload a video I took. Pictures may say a thousand words, but words only tell half the story.

Garbage

One of the first things I noticed when I arrived in Bangladesh is all the people and all the garbage. People are everywhere and their waste is too. A foreigner may see this situation and think "Wow, this is gross. Why don't they dispose of garbage properly here?" I admit I used to feel that way. But where will it go? There's no garbage collection service here, but even if there was it would probably end up being dumped in a river (a lot of it already is) or in a landfill (land is scarce in Bangladesh). A couple days after moving in with my host family I blew my nose with a Bashundhara (Kleenex to you). I asked my boudi where I should dispose of my soiled tissue. She walked over to the window, opened it, and told me to throw it out. So I did, and I still do. I can't yet bring myself to throw plastic out the window but I do toss biodegradable stuff out.

So this made me think a bit. I am certain that the people of Canada produce much more waste than the people of Bangladesh even though we're only a fifth of their population. The problem we have is we don't see it. We toss it in the garbage can, the bag is taken out, given to a sweaty guy in a big truck and dumped somewhere far out of sight and mind. What if our garbage service was cancelled and everyone had to toss all their waste out their windows? If we had to live with our garbage on our lawns and streets, would we use less?

Harvest and Cricket

Its harvest time here so it feels right to have celebrated Thanksgiving last weekend. Slowly but surely the once lush, green rice paddies are turning brown and dry. Everyone gets in on the fun. I was biking through the village one day and I saw a group of kids playing in a big pile of straw much like Canadian kids would play in a big pile of leaves. A couple weeks ago I took this picture. There were probably 60 people working in this field at the same time. Many hands make light work I guess.

Cricket is a big deal here. Everyone loves it. I've been here 3 and a half months and I still haven't learned how to play, but it's on my to do list. On the weekend, any place where there is an open field you see people playing cricket. This morning I was on my bike and I saw 3 games in progress.

A few days ago I was biking back from AKB and I saw some people playing cricket in a recently harvested rice field. They were either quite good or no one had anything better to do because there was a pretty big crowd gathered. I was intrigued and so I decided to pull over and watch for a while. Well it seems like everyone else there thought the same thing about me and as soon as word spread that a bideshi was in attendance the game abruptly stopped so all the players could turn and stare at me. Pretty soon a crowd had gathered around me. I don't think there is any length of time that I could live here and not feel awkward in this situation. So I took some pictures answered a few questions and pedalled off.

So the moral of the story is this: I am more interesting than cricket.

Before the bideshi sighting