Looking at the Indian Ocean from one of the many wide windows of my sandstone home I have to remind myself that just across that ocean is my old Bangladeshi home. This panorama strongly contrasts with the blaring music from the bar across the street behind me. Pondering my new home, I sit here on a Friday night after my first full week of teaching in Dar. From my shaded veranda I can glimpse dusty brown feet slip by under the wall surrounding my compound as they pad along the deeply-rutted road.
Dar is as unlike Dhaka in as many ways as it’s similar. Similarities? It has poverty. It has riches. Differences? The two are unseparated to the extreme. Gated mansions are juxtaposed by neighboring shacks. Limousines cruise down streets next to beat up clunkers. Yet how can this be a poor country? People are fat here! In Bangladesh I felt huge, a towering, well-padded giant around the malnourished Bengalis. Here next to beefy African mamas and muscular men I feel like a petite enfant.
While school consumes my life figuring out the apparent contradictions of Dar is secondary. Working from the crack of dawn until late into the day makes swinging in my neighbors’-a friendly family from Tennessee-hammock more appealing then gallivanting around a strange city by myself at night. Especially a city with as many car jackings, muggings, and theft as Dar.
But, the adventurous part of me is reasserting itself and I long to explore. Tomorrow morning-Saturday-I plan on venturing out to find a local bicycle shop an Irish teacher called Mcfarlane tipped me on. I just love living the expat life where random oddities like this happen. Take how yesterday I was informed a great resource on Swahili language and culture is from a co-worker who is Greek but married to a German. Random.*
This brings to a close my first blog from the African continent. Hopefully many more follow…unless one of the many possibilities (or should I say probabilities) of a car accident, tropical disease, or worse happens to me.
Kwa heri [good bye]!
*Another bit of random African trivia. Asante sana, squashed banana” is a direct quote from Rafiki in the “Lion King”. Asante sana means “thank you very much.” Squashed banana must have a deeper meaning, but I’m still searching for it.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Merely Existing in the USA
Well, I've been bouncing around the USA since the end of June, visiting family and churches as I fund raise for my transition to teaching in Tanzania.
It's been a good chunk of time since I've been in a first world country, so why am I not enjoying it as much as people tell me I should be? One teacher I worked with in Bdesh called it "the country where dreams come true." After all, coffee shops are easily accessible, allowing me to choice selections of hot lattes and iced coffees with fancy flavorings. Also, stores have options! It's not about going to buy a soda, it's what flavor? Caffeine free or caffeinated? Choices abound.
Life is too easy in America. My time feels wasted on trivial decisions like, "what should I watch tv tonight" when I spent the past two years without a tv. My time in Bangladesh was more meaningfully spent with all the time wasting activities stripped away. In Bangladesh I volunteered during my free time rather than going to the mall.
On the other hand, catching up with my family and the friends I've been able to see so far has been wonderful. So good. I loved making dirt cups with my little sister, watching my little brother open his birthday presents, and learning how to quilt from my Grandma. That time was not wasted!
Now the count down till I leave for Africa is ticking mentally away in my head. August 11th and I'll finally be in my new home-the land of the "chocolate people".
It's been a good chunk of time since I've been in a first world country, so why am I not enjoying it as much as people tell me I should be? One teacher I worked with in Bdesh called it "the country where dreams come true." After all, coffee shops are easily accessible, allowing me to choice selections of hot lattes and iced coffees with fancy flavorings. Also, stores have options! It's not about going to buy a soda, it's what flavor? Caffeine free or caffeinated? Choices abound.
Life is too easy in America. My time feels wasted on trivial decisions like, "what should I watch tv tonight" when I spent the past two years without a tv. My time in Bangladesh was more meaningfully spent with all the time wasting activities stripped away. In Bangladesh I volunteered during my free time rather than going to the mall.
On the other hand, catching up with my family and the friends I've been able to see so far has been wonderful. So good. I loved making dirt cups with my little sister, watching my little brother open his birthday presents, and learning how to quilt from my Grandma. That time was not wasted!
Now the count down till I leave for Africa is ticking mentally away in my head. August 11th and I'll finally be in my new home-the land of the "chocolate people".
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Amanda's perspective-I Am NOT a Jungle Girl
*Again, this is a guest blog, so these are the views of Amanda and not Elaine.
We started out the morning with a relaxing boat ride over to Taman Negara. We were filled with excitement. Little did I know what would be in store for me that day. We went up steps to the canopy walkway. I was extremely nervous since it involved walking across narrow bridges suspended in the air. Heights are not my thing. The bridges swayed as you walked across. I clung to the ropes that acted as handrails, which was considerably more difficult since I was shaking with fear. I was especially disturbed when I found out that we would do this without a harness. I was proud that despite the Czech man who constantly told me how scared and petrified I looked that I made it through the entire canopy walk and this time, I have pictures to prove it. What I later found out, was that the canopy walk was actually the easy part.
Right after the canopy walk, we stopped at a vine and everyone took a turn trying to climb it. Elaine climbed up the highest. Afterwards she confessed that she just wanted to show up those ballet dancers. I got a turn too, but with my twig arms I didn’t make it very far. I much prefer things that do not involve exercise.
We began trekking up the trail in the rainforest. At first I thought about what a great experience this was going to be. I was walking around in a beautiful, noisy rainforest teeming with life in Asia. After several more sets of stairs, I began to become annoyed. The stairs were so tall, even for me. It became so much work. Later, we had to use the roots of trees as our stairs. When we finally stopped at a scenic viewpoint I felt such relief to know that I was done. Unfortunately, this was not the case, I was informed that actually there was more walking to get to the top, but it was easy and flat and would only take about 10 minutes.
So, we continued on. At the sight of the first set of steps that I was told wouldn’t exist on this part of the trail, I was beside myself. It was all I could do to keep myself from bursting into tears. I was tired and hot. I was so sweaty that I was actually leaning over and ringing my hair out to stop the sweat from dripping down my back. I decided that crying would make me feel better, but it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to lose any more water than necessary since I had already drank my two water bottles and I was in the process of sweating them all out. Elaine kept telling me it would be worth it when we saw the view at the top. As we arrived at the top, I found a bench and plopped down. I was so relieved. I refused to get up and go to the edge to look at the view. I was disappointed, exhausted and unhappy. I have to say that treacherous hike was so NOT worth it to see that view. I was miserable. All I wanted to do was crawl up in a ball after a hot shower and cry myself to sleep in a nice bed. However, that was not meant to be. I still had to hike back. I took a cold shower under a small trickle of water and passed out for a 3 hour nap on a small, uncomfortable bed with an A/C that was, at best, inefficient. It was not an exciting adventure, nor was it fun. I am glad I did it, but I am sure I will probably never do it again. I was couldn’t wait to head back to KL the next morning. I am NOT jungle girl.
We started out the morning with a relaxing boat ride over to Taman Negara. We were filled with excitement. Little did I know what would be in store for me that day. We went up steps to the canopy walkway. I was extremely nervous since it involved walking across narrow bridges suspended in the air. Heights are not my thing. The bridges swayed as you walked across. I clung to the ropes that acted as handrails, which was considerably more difficult since I was shaking with fear. I was especially disturbed when I found out that we would do this without a harness. I was proud that despite the Czech man who constantly told me how scared and petrified I looked that I made it through the entire canopy walk and this time, I have pictures to prove it. What I later found out, was that the canopy walk was actually the easy part.
Right after the canopy walk, we stopped at a vine and everyone took a turn trying to climb it. Elaine climbed up the highest. Afterwards she confessed that she just wanted to show up those ballet dancers. I got a turn too, but with my twig arms I didn’t make it very far. I much prefer things that do not involve exercise.
We began trekking up the trail in the rainforest. At first I thought about what a great experience this was going to be. I was walking around in a beautiful, noisy rainforest teeming with life in Asia. After several more sets of stairs, I began to become annoyed. The stairs were so tall, even for me. It became so much work. Later, we had to use the roots of trees as our stairs. When we finally stopped at a scenic viewpoint I felt such relief to know that I was done. Unfortunately, this was not the case, I was informed that actually there was more walking to get to the top, but it was easy and flat and would only take about 10 minutes.
So, we continued on. At the sight of the first set of steps that I was told wouldn’t exist on this part of the trail, I was beside myself. It was all I could do to keep myself from bursting into tears. I was tired and hot. I was so sweaty that I was actually leaning over and ringing my hair out to stop the sweat from dripping down my back. I decided that crying would make me feel better, but it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to lose any more water than necessary since I had already drank my two water bottles and I was in the process of sweating them all out. Elaine kept telling me it would be worth it when we saw the view at the top. As we arrived at the top, I found a bench and plopped down. I was so relieved. I refused to get up and go to the edge to look at the view. I was disappointed, exhausted and unhappy. I have to say that treacherous hike was so NOT worth it to see that view. I was miserable. All I wanted to do was crawl up in a ball after a hot shower and cry myself to sleep in a nice bed. However, that was not meant to be. I still had to hike back. I took a cold shower under a small trickle of water and passed out for a 3 hour nap on a small, uncomfortable bed with an A/C that was, at best, inefficient. It was not an exciting adventure, nor was it fun. I am glad I did it, but I am sure I will probably never do it again. I was couldn’t wait to head back to KL the next morning. I am NOT jungle girl.
Trekking in Malaysia-Elaine's Perspective
After a couple of days in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Amanda and I headed to Taman Negara National Park, which is the world’s oldest rainforest and a lush, green jungle teeming with life. Our first morning there we left our quaint wooden chalet to breakfast on a floating restaurant. After Amanda watched me drink my morning cuppa joe and she had her morning Coke, we joined our guide in crossing the river on
a long, wooden ferry boat. Once on the other side of the river we trekked up to a canopy walk-ten bridges and 9 tree stands-that Amanda guesstimates was 200 meters long. But with her white face and frequent reminders to me that she was afraid of heights, I guesstimate it felt like 20,000 meters long for my fearful friend.
Afterward our group stopped to a have vine climbing contest. I climbed the highest and showed u the French ballet dancers on our trek.
Next we began the steep descent up a mountain. Up, up, we went, using the tangled root system as stairs. The jungle was so alive! Around us called the tropical birds (mainly hornbills), insects, and silver leaf monkeys. Pouring with sweat from the dense humidity, we made it to the top after only an hour’s climb. The view was priceless. Layer upon layer of vine and tree covered mountains stretched in front of us. The view also encompassed rocky formations before the steep drop into the murky river winding below. I took in the view with satisfaction at completing the difficult climb. Amanda sank on a rock and refused to budge or smile.
a long, wooden ferry boat. Once on the other side of the river we trekked up to a canopy walk-ten bridges and 9 tree stands-that Amanda guesstimates was 200 meters long. But with her white face and frequent reminders to me that she was afraid of heights, I guesstimate it felt like 20,000 meters long for my fearful friend.
Afterward our group stopped to a have vine climbing contest. I climbed the highest and showed u the French ballet dancers on our trek.
Next we began the steep descent up a mountain. Up, up, we went, using the tangled root system as stairs. The jungle was so alive! Around us called the tropical birds (mainly hornbills), insects, and silver leaf monkeys. Pouring with sweat from the dense humidity, we made it to the top after only an hour’s climb. The view was priceless. Layer upon layer of vine and tree covered mountains stretched in front of us. The view also encompassed rocky formations before the steep drop into the murky river winding below. I took in the view with satisfaction at completing the difficult climb. Amanda sank on a rock and refused to budge or smile.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Amanda's trip to Dhaka-Bongo Bazar
*This is the trip to Bongo Bazar with Amanda from my perspective!
I took Amanda to one of my most favourite places to shop in Dhaka-Bongo Bazar! Crowded, close, cheap,-and best of all, boiling in premonsoon season heat. We plunged into the tiny stall-lined market to hunt for the few priceless bargains hidden in the piles of clothing. When I found a gem-say and H&M or a Mango top-I'd hold it up with glee and begin haggling. Bargaining is a procedure with rules and customs, it's a lot like Monopoly. The think to remember is the shop keeper will never sell something it's his loss-so bargain away! I excel at bargaining and walked away with cute shirts for less than two USD a piece.
We left early, though, as the heat of the afternoon and hawkers were bothering Amanda. Her normally cute face was grimly set in a tense mold.
I took Amanda to one of my most favourite places to shop in Dhaka-Bongo Bazar! Crowded, close, cheap,-and best of all, boiling in premonsoon season heat. We plunged into the tiny stall-lined market to hunt for the few priceless bargains hidden in the piles of clothing. When I found a gem-say and H&M or a Mango top-I'd hold it up with glee and begin haggling. Bargaining is a procedure with rules and customs, it's a lot like Monopoly. The think to remember is the shop keeper will never sell something it's his loss-so bargain away! I excel at bargaining and walked away with cute shirts for less than two USD a piece.
We left early, though, as the heat of the afternoon and hawkers were bothering Amanda. Her normally cute face was grimly set in a tense mold.
Amanda's trip to Dhaka-Bongo Bazar
*This is a guest blog from my friend Amanda, who recently visited me in Bangladesh. Her views are not necessarily my views.
A firetrap. That was my first thought as I entered Bongo Bazaar. If that place were to catch on fire, everyone would be a goner and done for.
Elaine had raved about Bongo Bazaar and told me it was one of her favorite places. She talked about the great deals on name brand clothing and how you have to haggle the prices. She did however, leave out a few things.. Like the fact that Bongo Bazaar is a maze or that the vendors are aggressive and constantly call out to you saying, “Madam, Madam!” to get you to look in their stall. You have to dig through piles and piles of clothing. It was nothing like I had imagined from the description that Elaine gave.
When we arrived, a teenage Bengali decided he would be our guide. He was very short and I am sure he was and is constantly ridiculed. He led us through the labyrinth of the bazaar and kept picking up things to say, “You like this?” He picked the most hideous items. When we did find an item we were interested in, he took it upon himself to haggle the price for us. He would try to discreetly tell us to walk away when the vendor refused to give us the price we wanted. Let’s just say that his idea of discretion was about as inconspicuous and Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky’s tryst or as subtle as Elaine in a crowd of Bengalis.
I felt uncomfortable the entire time. It was like being at a low-end flea market, minus other people shopping. I do not like aggressive salesmen and I was sweating profusely. Elaine seemed to be in her element. She was thoroughly enjoying every moment. She enjoys the challenge of finding something she wants and bargaining a price. I did find one shirt to purchase. It was a boat-neck pink shirt with buttons down the front. Absolutely adorable.
After Bongo Bazaar, I decided that department stores were still my shopping paradise. I love the organization, set prices (especially when they are sale prices), cleanliness, private dressing rooms, nonagressive salespeople and of course, the wonderful air conditioning. Unlike Elaine, who thinks shopping should be a challenge, I am a believer in using shopping as retail therapy to relax. I was relieved to leave that fire trap and I look forward to my next therapy session when I return home.
A firetrap. That was my first thought as I entered Bongo Bazaar. If that place were to catch on fire, everyone would be a goner and done for.
Elaine had raved about Bongo Bazaar and told me it was one of her favorite places. She talked about the great deals on name brand clothing and how you have to haggle the prices. She did however, leave out a few things.. Like the fact that Bongo Bazaar is a maze or that the vendors are aggressive and constantly call out to you saying, “Madam, Madam!” to get you to look in their stall. You have to dig through piles and piles of clothing. It was nothing like I had imagined from the description that Elaine gave.
When we arrived, a teenage Bengali decided he would be our guide. He was very short and I am sure he was and is constantly ridiculed. He led us through the labyrinth of the bazaar and kept picking up things to say, “You like this?” He picked the most hideous items. When we did find an item we were interested in, he took it upon himself to haggle the price for us. He would try to discreetly tell us to walk away when the vendor refused to give us the price we wanted. Let’s just say that his idea of discretion was about as inconspicuous and Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky’s tryst or as subtle as Elaine in a crowd of Bengalis.
I felt uncomfortable the entire time. It was like being at a low-end flea market, minus other people shopping. I do not like aggressive salesmen and I was sweating profusely. Elaine seemed to be in her element. She was thoroughly enjoying every moment. She enjoys the challenge of finding something she wants and bargaining a price. I did find one shirt to purchase. It was a boat-neck pink shirt with buttons down the front. Absolutely adorable.
After Bongo Bazaar, I decided that department stores were still my shopping paradise. I love the organization, set prices (especially when they are sale prices), cleanliness, private dressing rooms, nonagressive salespeople and of course, the wonderful air conditioning. Unlike Elaine, who thinks shopping should be a challenge, I am a believer in using shopping as retail therapy to relax. I was relieved to leave that fire trap and I look forward to my next therapy session when I return home.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Perfect Love
My spiritual mother descended
On the wings of the Spirit
Into my deeds-driven life.
Casting aside the superficiality of
Popular Christianity,
She lived and breathed His
Glowing love, pulsing, radiating
From her heart out.
Through His strident love she
Wove tiny threads of patience, truth,
Faith, and hope to fashion an
unbreakable, undying bond with me as
her daughter.
On the wings of the Spirit
Into my deeds-driven life.
Casting aside the superficiality of
Popular Christianity,
She lived and breathed His
Glowing love, pulsing, radiating
From her heart out.
Through His strident love she
Wove tiny threads of patience, truth,
Faith, and hope to fashion an
unbreakable, undying bond with me as
her daughter.
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