dear friends,
I have returned safely to the land of apple pie and red, white, and blue! I confess I have missed my homeland in many ways, and in many other ways I long to be back in my adopted land. One month in Bangladesh is like living six. So much has happened, so many decisions have been made, so many adventures had.
Returning home always takes on a surreal quality to me. I drive down roads empty of carts, animals, pedestrians, and even cars! I live surrounded by air conditioning, hot water in the shower, and cold water in the frig. I have a car at my disposal, and I can fix anything my heart desires to eat. Sometimes I feel like I move through the day like a stranger in a strange land.
Let me give you an example of what I mean. On saturday, I took the chance to shadow a friend in the pediatric intensive care unit at a local hospital. I drove up to a parking space, and strolled casually into the lobby of the hospital. surrounding me was a kindly receptionist, a gift shop, and even mood lighting. In the pediatric ward, each child had an individual, climate controlled room, and the halls were decorated with colorful paintings of wild animals. For 6 patients there were perhaps 4 nurses, a doctor, and a respiratory therapist. The workers sat and chatted casually as I sat at the desk.
I am reminded of Dhaka Children's Hospital, the single rooms filled with twenty or thirty children, the short-staffed nurses scurrying from patient to patient, the doctors working with next to no technology in order to treat their charges. And I am reminded of the dying child with end stage tuberculosis, laying motionless in one of these beds with vomited blood caking her face. Her disease was highly contagious, and I feared for all the other children sitting around her. When I asked the Bangladeshi doctor about this, he told me that they have no way to isolate the child. When I asked the American doc, he told me that he would be breaking the law for not isolating this child!
What are we to do? Are we to blame the Bangladeshi system? Are we to villify the americans for being fat cats with too much money to spend on fancy health care, and for not helping their poor neighbors? the truth is that there is no single finger to point, no single factor to blame. Poverty is an incredibly complex entity, full of moral ambiguities. All we can do, as individuals and as organizations, is to try to help where we can, and to leave the rest to the work of God. At least this is how I get through my days. I have enjoyed writing these posts. Thanks to all who have read them, and I hope you all are blessed.
Signing off
Richie
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Leaving on a Jet Plane
dear friends,
It is with truly mixed emotions that I prepare to leave Bangladesh. But when I reflect on it, my experience of this nation always involves deeply complex emotions. It is a mixture of anger at how terrible life can be, inspiration at the joy and knowledge we are able to put in our children, fatigue at having constantly to be "on," frustration in a nation of frequent power outages, intense heat, and terrible corruption, and pride in our accomplishments. Nothing in this life is simple, especially in a place like Bangladesh. Sometimes people tell me, "oh, you must be so proud of the work you do." To them, I respond, "mostly I'm just tired all the time!" Sometimes that tired is the deep, satisfied tired at a job well done. At other times, it is the lonely tired of those who just wanna sit down and let their burdens down for a while.
You might ask where this more somber tone is coming from. Recently, I met a businessman who invited me to his office because he said he wanted to help me out with my project. So I took the time to come to his office, although I was working on next to no sleep the night before (another story for another time). Anyway, over the course of the next 5 hours, I was first tantalized by the possibility of a major donor prospect, then utterly infuriated by the fact that this man seemed simply to want to show me (a white man) off to his rich friends. I drove home that night, and hit major traffic. Breathing in exhaust fumes while I sat in the motorized taxi, I felt like screaming or breaking something with my bare hands.
When I got home, I called an American friend who is living in Bangladesh and asked, "do you ever [when you are in Bangladesh] just wanna hit somebody?" To that, she responded, "actually yeah, I feel that way right now." She went on to describe a frustration with her roommates, and I felt more at peace, realizing that is was ok to feel this way from time to time.
But enough with melancholy. I'm gonna go play some soccer with my kids before I have to say goodbye to them.
It is with truly mixed emotions that I prepare to leave Bangladesh. But when I reflect on it, my experience of this nation always involves deeply complex emotions. It is a mixture of anger at how terrible life can be, inspiration at the joy and knowledge we are able to put in our children, fatigue at having constantly to be "on," frustration in a nation of frequent power outages, intense heat, and terrible corruption, and pride in our accomplishments. Nothing in this life is simple, especially in a place like Bangladesh. Sometimes people tell me, "oh, you must be so proud of the work you do." To them, I respond, "mostly I'm just tired all the time!" Sometimes that tired is the deep, satisfied tired at a job well done. At other times, it is the lonely tired of those who just wanna sit down and let their burdens down for a while.
You might ask where this more somber tone is coming from. Recently, I met a businessman who invited me to his office because he said he wanted to help me out with my project. So I took the time to come to his office, although I was working on next to no sleep the night before (another story for another time). Anyway, over the course of the next 5 hours, I was first tantalized by the possibility of a major donor prospect, then utterly infuriated by the fact that this man seemed simply to want to show me (a white man) off to his rich friends. I drove home that night, and hit major traffic. Breathing in exhaust fumes while I sat in the motorized taxi, I felt like screaming or breaking something with my bare hands.
When I got home, I called an American friend who is living in Bangladesh and asked, "do you ever [when you are in Bangladesh] just wanna hit somebody?" To that, she responded, "actually yeah, I feel that way right now." She went on to describe a frustration with her roommates, and I felt more at peace, realizing that is was ok to feel this way from time to time.
But enough with melancholy. I'm gonna go play some soccer with my kids before I have to say goodbye to them.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Some Thoughts
dear friends,
I first have to apologize for my absence in the past days. I came down with a touch of food poisoning last week, which, as my brother who experienced it last year in Bangladesh can attest, is not an enjoyable experience. Also, we have been having some major internet connectivity problems, which are now fixed (fingers crossed).
I have been thinking a lot about my life here in this country. Like most places in the world, being successful in Bangladesh is about who you know and who wants to help you out. So I spend a lot of my time talking with wealthy, important people, trying to build relationships that may be useful in the work of Basic Needs. At the same time, I spend a large part of my time with the most poor sectors of society, slum dwellers, village children, and orphans. Life here can take on a surreal, schizophrenic quality.
Let me give an example. The other day I took a trip to Bashundhara City, a towering structure of glass and steel which claims to be the largest shopping mall in all of South Asia. Here you can eat foreign food, buy fancy electronics, or catch an American movie in the cinema. Contrast this with the young girl I met on my way home. She was standing unprotected in the rain, weaving between cars so that she could sell little flowers to the people inside. I asked her name and gave her the typical greetings in Bangla, to which she reacted with a broad, beautiful smile. Before the motorcycle taxi moved on, I clicked a couple pictures of her through the metal gate.
That picture is, to me, emblematic of the problem. I am on the inside, protected and dry, and she is on the outside, soaking wet. It seems that, in this country, both sides accept this reality as par for the course. They seem not even to consider it a problem. But, as an outsider, I have a special position in that I can move between these worlds, and see them both intimately.
You know, I once heard a saying that the only logical response to the realities of life is insanity. Life can be vicious and absurd, and the moment we come to accept this is the moment we can work against this. One Bengali man recently heard about my project and called me an "ambassador of God." This is the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a while, but it also makes me think. Perhaps part of our role in Basic Needs is to help remind Bengalis themselves of their inherent power to change their system, to get out from behind their gates and to spend time with normal people. If they did, they might discover what a treasure Bangladesh has in its citizens.
I first have to apologize for my absence in the past days. I came down with a touch of food poisoning last week, which, as my brother who experienced it last year in Bangladesh can attest, is not an enjoyable experience. Also, we have been having some major internet connectivity problems, which are now fixed (fingers crossed).
I have been thinking a lot about my life here in this country. Like most places in the world, being successful in Bangladesh is about who you know and who wants to help you out. So I spend a lot of my time talking with wealthy, important people, trying to build relationships that may be useful in the work of Basic Needs. At the same time, I spend a large part of my time with the most poor sectors of society, slum dwellers, village children, and orphans. Life here can take on a surreal, schizophrenic quality.
Let me give an example. The other day I took a trip to Bashundhara City, a towering structure of glass and steel which claims to be the largest shopping mall in all of South Asia. Here you can eat foreign food, buy fancy electronics, or catch an American movie in the cinema. Contrast this with the young girl I met on my way home. She was standing unprotected in the rain, weaving between cars so that she could sell little flowers to the people inside. I asked her name and gave her the typical greetings in Bangla, to which she reacted with a broad, beautiful smile. Before the motorcycle taxi moved on, I clicked a couple pictures of her through the metal gate.
That picture is, to me, emblematic of the problem. I am on the inside, protected and dry, and she is on the outside, soaking wet. It seems that, in this country, both sides accept this reality as par for the course. They seem not even to consider it a problem. But, as an outsider, I have a special position in that I can move between these worlds, and see them both intimately.
You know, I once heard a saying that the only logical response to the realities of life is insanity. Life can be vicious and absurd, and the moment we come to accept this is the moment we can work against this. One Bengali man recently heard about my project and called me an "ambassador of God." This is the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a while, but it also makes me think. Perhaps part of our role in Basic Needs is to help remind Bengalis themselves of their inherent power to change their system, to get out from behind their gates and to spend time with normal people. If they did, they might discover what a treasure Bangladesh has in its citizens.
Monday, June 28, 2010
At a Tea Stall
Dear friends,
there are certain events which drive us in a certain direction, which push us to set new goals and to pursue new dreams. But often we struggle so hard to realize those dreams that we forget why we started on these paths to begin with! We work very hard to make Basic Needs a reality, but if I don't take time to reconnect with why we do our work, then I quickly lose my motivation and my effectiveness.
Fortunately, today provided a keen reminder of why we do what we do. I was sitting in a tea stall with some friends, enjoying some refreshments. The boy who served us was quite young, and so I asked him his age. 9 he said. Why do you work here, I asked. He said his mother had been dead for a long time and his father couldn't care for him, so he was taken under the employ of the tea stall owner. I asked him how much he works, and he told me all day long. I asked him if he went to school, and he said he wanted to, but his boss said no. He made for about $8 a month plus room and board, which I can only imagine to be meager at best. As he and his little friend were talking to me, one of the older employees came up behind them and smacked them in the back of the head, telling them to get back to work. They meekly did as they were told. The lives lead by these two boys is exactly why Basic Needs exists.
there are certain events which drive us in a certain direction, which push us to set new goals and to pursue new dreams. But often we struggle so hard to realize those dreams that we forget why we started on these paths to begin with! We work very hard to make Basic Needs a reality, but if I don't take time to reconnect with why we do our work, then I quickly lose my motivation and my effectiveness.
Fortunately, today provided a keen reminder of why we do what we do. I was sitting in a tea stall with some friends, enjoying some refreshments. The boy who served us was quite young, and so I asked him his age. 9 he said. Why do you work here, I asked. He said his mother had been dead for a long time and his father couldn't care for him, so he was taken under the employ of the tea stall owner. I asked him how much he works, and he told me all day long. I asked him if he went to school, and he said he wanted to, but his boss said no. He made for about $8 a month plus room and board, which I can only imagine to be meager at best. As he and his little friend were talking to me, one of the older employees came up behind them and smacked them in the back of the head, telling them to get back to work. They meekly did as they were told. The lives lead by these two boys is exactly why Basic Needs exists.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Day in the Sun
Dear friends,
We have all enjoyed our special visit from Leah Harris, an old classmate of mine from high school, who is now doing her masters in agricultural economics at Virginia Tech. She is in Bangladesh for her thesis research, so it has been fun to show her around. She and I got to take the children on a special trip to see the national memorial to the 1971 War of Independence. This is quite an impressive structure, a series of concrete towers culminating in a grand spire flying high into the sky. Around the memorial are the mass graves of hundreds of people massacred during the revolution. It is a quiet, peaceful place, and is surprisingly uplifting in it its beauty, and in the beauty of the acres of gardens which surround it. The kids absolutely loved it. Many of them had probably never ridden in a private car before, so just the chance to get out and see a bit of their country was really thrilling for them. There is nothing more magical than the eyes of a child who has seen something for the first time. They also got the chance to run around when they got to the memorial. After seeing the sites, we ended up playing tag on the lawn, and I found myself thoroughly soaked with sweat by the end! After a couple hours, we piled into the car for the ride home, the kids intently enjoying a cup of ice cream.
We have all enjoyed our special visit from Leah Harris, an old classmate of mine from high school, who is now doing her masters in agricultural economics at Virginia Tech. She is in Bangladesh for her thesis research, so it has been fun to show her around. She and I got to take the children on a special trip to see the national memorial to the 1971 War of Independence. This is quite an impressive structure, a series of concrete towers culminating in a grand spire flying high into the sky. Around the memorial are the mass graves of hundreds of people massacred during the revolution. It is a quiet, peaceful place, and is surprisingly uplifting in it its beauty, and in the beauty of the acres of gardens which surround it. The kids absolutely loved it. Many of them had probably never ridden in a private car before, so just the chance to get out and see a bit of their country was really thrilling for them. There is nothing more magical than the eyes of a child who has seen something for the first time. They also got the chance to run around when they got to the memorial. After seeing the sites, we ended up playing tag on the lawn, and I found myself thoroughly soaked with sweat by the end! After a couple hours, we piled into the car for the ride home, the kids intently enjoying a cup of ice cream.
Lessons Learned
Dear friends,
It has been a couple days since I last posted, and man, so much has happened! Our health camp in the village took place on Friday without a major snag, thank God. We arrived after the harrowing journey through the roads and byways of northern Bangladesh, and began the process of setting up the health camp. We only had two doctors, so we did our best to have all the personal and basic health information filled out before we put the children in the exam room. I was the only non-doctor who knew about vital signs, so I found myself taking about 100 pulse rates while my intrepid American friend Leah (now Dr. Leah to the villagers) took respiratory rates. The whole experience was exciting, but the temperature was excruciatingly hot and humid so that large beads of sweat formed on your arms and dripped down your face. The fact that dozens of children and parents were crowding around you made for a further increase in the temperature.
The results of the health survey were astounding. Of 95 children surveyed, over one third of all children(both sick and healthy) demonstrated clinical signs of malnutrition. 18% of children suffered from gastrointestinal disease, while another 22% had upper respiratory infections. One child had a preliminary case of pneumonia, while another had a possible case of TB.
The worst thing I saw that day was a tiny child, maybe 4 years old, who had a huge abscess in her groin region. For the sake of the non-medicos among us, I will not go into details, but needless to say it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen. On her tiny legs were multiple scars of previous abscesses. This child needed to go to a hospital urgently to prevent systemic infection and possible death, but her caretaker refused, saying that she had had them before and had been fine.
This is the hard reality of charitable work. Sometimes you are completely inspired by the contribution your are able to make, and you feel on top of the world. At other times, like this one, you feel utterly frustrated, angry, and helpless to do anything. The key is to pick your battles, win the ones you can, and move on, never forgetting to learn from your mistakes.
It has been a couple days since I last posted, and man, so much has happened! Our health camp in the village took place on Friday without a major snag, thank God. We arrived after the harrowing journey through the roads and byways of northern Bangladesh, and began the process of setting up the health camp. We only had two doctors, so we did our best to have all the personal and basic health information filled out before we put the children in the exam room. I was the only non-doctor who knew about vital signs, so I found myself taking about 100 pulse rates while my intrepid American friend Leah (now Dr. Leah to the villagers) took respiratory rates. The whole experience was exciting, but the temperature was excruciatingly hot and humid so that large beads of sweat formed on your arms and dripped down your face. The fact that dozens of children and parents were crowding around you made for a further increase in the temperature.
The results of the health survey were astounding. Of 95 children surveyed, over one third of all children(both sick and healthy) demonstrated clinical signs of malnutrition. 18% of children suffered from gastrointestinal disease, while another 22% had upper respiratory infections. One child had a preliminary case of pneumonia, while another had a possible case of TB.
The worst thing I saw that day was a tiny child, maybe 4 years old, who had a huge abscess in her groin region. For the sake of the non-medicos among us, I will not go into details, but needless to say it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen. On her tiny legs were multiple scars of previous abscesses. This child needed to go to a hospital urgently to prevent systemic infection and possible death, but her caretaker refused, saying that she had had them before and had been fine.
This is the hard reality of charitable work. Sometimes you are completely inspired by the contribution your are able to make, and you feel on top of the world. At other times, like this one, you feel utterly frustrated, angry, and helpless to do anything. The key is to pick your battles, win the ones you can, and move on, never forgetting to learn from your mistakes.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Preparations
Dear Friends,
well, its just 24 hours until our big health camp gets started up in the village. We are actually doing examinations on each child in our village and hoping to use that data to monitor our progress in helping these children over time. This sounds simple, but it actually takes a great deal of logistical work, like making out the forms, finding the doctors, providing food, transportation, and lodging to the staff, etc. Its quite an undertaking!
Anyway, I got a great deal of help from an unexpected source today. There is a doctor at the children's hospital who I called up last night to see if he might help me make a form for examining the children. Dr. Nayeem is a big, bearded Muslim man who wears very traditional, flowing clothes, and a prayer cap. He is as orthodox as they come, and I admit that he can strike a fairly intimidating pose for a person who comes from a country at war with people in similar attire! But, Dr. Nayeem is in fact an incredibly gentle, kind man who took a great deal of time and effort to help me help these children. not only did he help me design the form, but he also helped me purchase all the necessary drugs and gave me some really solid advice. In addition, he made me lunch! So once again, my assumptions are proven wrong. This is certainly no new thing.
well, its just 24 hours until our big health camp gets started up in the village. We are actually doing examinations on each child in our village and hoping to use that data to monitor our progress in helping these children over time. This sounds simple, but it actually takes a great deal of logistical work, like making out the forms, finding the doctors, providing food, transportation, and lodging to the staff, etc. Its quite an undertaking!
Anyway, I got a great deal of help from an unexpected source today. There is a doctor at the children's hospital who I called up last night to see if he might help me make a form for examining the children. Dr. Nayeem is a big, bearded Muslim man who wears very traditional, flowing clothes, and a prayer cap. He is as orthodox as they come, and I admit that he can strike a fairly intimidating pose for a person who comes from a country at war with people in similar attire! But, Dr. Nayeem is in fact an incredibly gentle, kind man who took a great deal of time and effort to help me help these children. not only did he help me design the form, but he also helped me purchase all the necessary drugs and gave me some really solid advice. In addition, he made me lunch! So once again, my assumptions are proven wrong. This is certainly no new thing.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
