I posted more pictures on my facebook. Here is the link to see them:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2393352084597.122212.1574787470&type=1&l=9e86cdbdbe
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Picture Update.
I posted more pictures on my facebook. Here is the link to see them:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2393352084597.122212.1574787470&type=1&l=9e86cdbdbe
Monday, November 28, 2011
Hold onto the Little Things
We all sat in the Waid’s living room about to watch a ridiculously cheesy movie when Shashitra walked into the room. She is the lady that is in charge of the office. She is probably around 60 years old and her hair falls all the way down her back. Shashitra informed us that a baby boy would be brought from a village the following day. This brought excitement because we would be a new baby boy. Of course we had to name this baby. I quickly responded, “How about Silas?” and with that it was settled… the boy would be named Silas.
Tonight Lauren, Heather, and I went to the baby room so that we could see the new addition to the Bangla Hope family. We walked around the room for about 5 min trying to find him before we could get Kakoli to ask the caregivers in Bangla where the new baby was. He was lying down behind one of the caregivers. I quickly scooped him up into my arms. Silas has very little hair on his head but it is nice to touch his soft smooth head. He is 2 months old and they say that his mother died from Anemia. Lauren found Paul and Heather picked up Ginger and we all just sat on a bed holding the precious babies. I got Silas to smile and do a little giggle and I believe that it was the most precious thing I have ever seen. Nine members of his family had shown up to give the baby to the orphanage and I couldn’t help but wonder how they gave him up. Of course they were too poor to keep him but my mind still couldn’t comprehend how it was possible to give up such a adorable baby.
When I think of poverty I think of the villagers. As you have read in my other posts, they have nothing. Today we gave out tons of clothes. Many of the clothes were still in very good condition but since so many of them are brought over by the Waid’s each year they have excess that can be given to the villagers that live around the orphanage.
Around 3 o’clock Lauren and I went down and moved all the clothes toward the gate that leads to the village. There had to be about 50 villagers outside the gates waiting to get in. The guard would let 4 or 5 kids in at a time and then we would have to sort through all the clothes and dresses and pick out ones that would fit them. Some of the children would come wearing nothing but rags and we would give them beautiful dresses and sweaters. A few of them would burst into tears when we would get near them and others would just smile because we kept telling them how beautiful they were. They really were beautiful despite the fact that many of the children were caked with dirt. One little girl came who was about 4 or 5 years old. She was blind but yet she had such a precious face. I can’t imagine how hard it is for the mother to take care of her newborn baby and her little blind girl. If being a child in Bangladesh is hard, being a blind child in Bangladesh must be harder. I cannot get that little girl’s face out of my head.
I suppose that tonight is just one of those nights where I cannot help but think of the village people. I cannot help but think of their pain, poverty, and kindness. It is times like these that I wish that I could do more to help but I feel helpless and pathetic. These village kids can be so precious to me but I cannot express it to them. I guess I should just hold on to the fact that we now have baby Silas. He has a much brighter future now that he is here.
Sometimes all I can do is hold onto the little things.
Tonight Lauren, Heather, and I went to the baby room so that we could see the new addition to the Bangla Hope family. We walked around the room for about 5 min trying to find him before we could get Kakoli to ask the caregivers in Bangla where the new baby was. He was lying down behind one of the caregivers. I quickly scooped him up into my arms. Silas has very little hair on his head but it is nice to touch his soft smooth head. He is 2 months old and they say that his mother died from Anemia. Lauren found Paul and Heather picked up Ginger and we all just sat on a bed holding the precious babies. I got Silas to smile and do a little giggle and I believe that it was the most precious thing I have ever seen. Nine members of his family had shown up to give the baby to the orphanage and I couldn’t help but wonder how they gave him up. Of course they were too poor to keep him but my mind still couldn’t comprehend how it was possible to give up such a adorable baby.
When I think of poverty I think of the villagers. As you have read in my other posts, they have nothing. Today we gave out tons of clothes. Many of the clothes were still in very good condition but since so many of them are brought over by the Waid’s each year they have excess that can be given to the villagers that live around the orphanage.
Around 3 o’clock Lauren and I went down and moved all the clothes toward the gate that leads to the village. There had to be about 50 villagers outside the gates waiting to get in. The guard would let 4 or 5 kids in at a time and then we would have to sort through all the clothes and dresses and pick out ones that would fit them. Some of the children would come wearing nothing but rags and we would give them beautiful dresses and sweaters. A few of them would burst into tears when we would get near them and others would just smile because we kept telling them how beautiful they were. They really were beautiful despite the fact that many of the children were caked with dirt. One little girl came who was about 4 or 5 years old. She was blind but yet she had such a precious face. I can’t imagine how hard it is for the mother to take care of her newborn baby and her little blind girl. If being a child in Bangladesh is hard, being a blind child in Bangladesh must be harder. I cannot get that little girl’s face out of my head.
I suppose that tonight is just one of those nights where I cannot help but think of the village people. I cannot help but think of their pain, poverty, and kindness. It is times like these that I wish that I could do more to help but I feel helpless and pathetic. These village kids can be so precious to me but I cannot express it to them. I guess I should just hold on to the fact that we now have baby Silas. He has a much brighter future now that he is here.
Sometimes all I can do is hold onto the little things.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Communion
“By eating bread and drinking wine at communion, we act out our acceptance of Christ into our lives, the divine human interaction through which God transforms us by the life of Christ. This we remember and internalize our relationship with him.” Altar Call pg 83
We had communion today in church. For those of you who don’t know what communion is, it is a tradition that Seventh Day Adventist perform (other denominations do it to but they don’t all do the foot washing) where we act out what Jesus did in the New Testament. First of all, Jesus took on the role of a servant and washed the feet of his disciples and then later he took bread and wine and gave it to them showing them what he would do by dying for them. (this is a very brief explanation).
When I was a kid I loved communion because that meant that I got a little snack in the middle of church. As I grew older I stopped performing the foot washing because I was self-conscious about my feet being handled by other people (I know it is weird). It was just to weird for me so I would sit and not participate in that part. In America it seems that we don’t understand the significance of what it means to be the “servant” of another person. We don’t have servants so it doesn’t seem to “apply” to us in a personal way. We are just thankful that Jesus died for us.
In Bangladesh there is distinct differences of people who are wealthy and people who have nothing. Being from America I am automatically wealthier than most of the people here. I hate that this distinction can be felt as I walk around the campus. The woman in Bangladesh cannot wear a sharwa camis if they have not had an education. If they have never been to school they are confined to a plain everyday shari. Since I wear a Sharwa and I’m American.. there is definitely a distinction. I feel like I should be their equal since we are both human beings that have emotions, thoughts, feelings, and opinions. Yet in our exchanges I sometimes feel as if they feel as if they are obligated to treat me in a different manner because of my “superiority” (which I don’t believe I have).
So today when I had the chance to wash the cute little feet of Shati (our cook) I began to understand a fraction of what it was like for Jesus to kneel down and wash the feet of his disciples. It was a privilege for me to mimic Jesus and wash the feet of Shati who has done nothing but spoil us since we arrived in Bangladesh. I finally felt like I was repaying her for everything she has done for me. Yet Jesus didn’t owe the disciples anything. He humbled Himself (the King of the Universe) and washed the dirty feet of men who would desert him when he was handed over to be killed. (The foot washing also meant more because I now understand what it is like to have disgusting feet from walking everywhere with just sandals on. It is so nice to have them be squeaky clean).
After the foot washing we went back into the cafeteria (where we have our church) and we ate the bread and drank the juice that represented Jesus’ death. When handed the juice I knew immediately that it was not grape juice but I drank it without questioning. I later found out that it was raisin juice. Apparently they soak the raisins and then squish them somehow so that it makes a juice… it wasn’t that bad. Even though we didn’t have real grape juice the symbolism was the same. By drinking this I acknowledged that Jesus Christ died for me so that I could live a new life for Him. I think I'm going to look at communion in a different way from now on.
We had communion today in church. For those of you who don’t know what communion is, it is a tradition that Seventh Day Adventist perform (other denominations do it to but they don’t all do the foot washing) where we act out what Jesus did in the New Testament. First of all, Jesus took on the role of a servant and washed the feet of his disciples and then later he took bread and wine and gave it to them showing them what he would do by dying for them. (this is a very brief explanation).
When I was a kid I loved communion because that meant that I got a little snack in the middle of church. As I grew older I stopped performing the foot washing because I was self-conscious about my feet being handled by other people (I know it is weird). It was just to weird for me so I would sit and not participate in that part. In America it seems that we don’t understand the significance of what it means to be the “servant” of another person. We don’t have servants so it doesn’t seem to “apply” to us in a personal way. We are just thankful that Jesus died for us.
In Bangladesh there is distinct differences of people who are wealthy and people who have nothing. Being from America I am automatically wealthier than most of the people here. I hate that this distinction can be felt as I walk around the campus. The woman in Bangladesh cannot wear a sharwa camis if they have not had an education. If they have never been to school they are confined to a plain everyday shari. Since I wear a Sharwa and I’m American.. there is definitely a distinction. I feel like I should be their equal since we are both human beings that have emotions, thoughts, feelings, and opinions. Yet in our exchanges I sometimes feel as if they feel as if they are obligated to treat me in a different manner because of my “superiority” (which I don’t believe I have).
So today when I had the chance to wash the cute little feet of Shati (our cook) I began to understand a fraction of what it was like for Jesus to kneel down and wash the feet of his disciples. It was a privilege for me to mimic Jesus and wash the feet of Shati who has done nothing but spoil us since we arrived in Bangladesh. I finally felt like I was repaying her for everything she has done for me. Yet Jesus didn’t owe the disciples anything. He humbled Himself (the King of the Universe) and washed the dirty feet of men who would desert him when he was handed over to be killed. (The foot washing also meant more because I now understand what it is like to have disgusting feet from walking everywhere with just sandals on. It is so nice to have them be squeaky clean).
After the foot washing we went back into the cafeteria (where we have our church) and we ate the bread and drank the juice that represented Jesus’ death. When handed the juice I knew immediately that it was not grape juice but I drank it without questioning. I later found out that it was raisin juice. Apparently they soak the raisins and then squish them somehow so that it makes a juice… it wasn’t that bad. Even though we didn’t have real grape juice the symbolism was the same. By drinking this I acknowledged that Jesus Christ died for me so that I could live a new life for Him. I think I'm going to look at communion in a different way from now on.
:)
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thanksgiving
(My internet hasn’t been working to well lately so this is posted a day late)
First part of my favorite season has past and I am still not an emotional wreck. This is a good sign. Thanksgiving was still harder than I thought it would be. I felt so exhausted from the week that teaching on Thanksgiving was more miserable than fun. I just kind of sat there looking out the window rather then trying to restrain the kids in my class from bouncing off the ceiling. They were especially crazy on Thursday and I just couldn’t handle it. Tuli is helping this new girl learn how to read and so she hasn’t been there to help me out. Our Thanksgiving dinner was really nice though. Heather, Lauren, and I got dressed up in our Sharis and decorated the table with leaves and candles. We ate homemade gluten, mashed potatoes (mashed by hand), stuffing, green bean casserole, and of course pumpkin pie. It was a pleasant meal where we ate far too much but enjoyed ourselves in the process.
It wasn’t until I woke up this morning that I felt upset that I wasn’t with my family. It was frustrating because skype wouldn’t work and I just wanted to talk to them so badly… so I called. We had 12 minutes of me on speakerphone and different people telling me hello. I couldn’t help but giggle as everyone was showing their uniqueness in the way they spoke to me for their few seconds. Afterwards I walked inside my room beaming and exclaiming how happy I was to have talked to some of my family members.. then I had to walk back out to my porch and cry a little bit.
Being away from the people you love is so hard when you know that they are all together celebrating. It gives one a feeling of being alone even when there are plenty of people here. I was determined to not let this emotion take over so Lauren, Heather, and I went into town. Going to town keeps us sane. It helps to get off the orphanage compound at least once a week and buy something random in town. We usually don’t spend more than 5 American dollars but it is still worth it to make the journey. Town is about 30 minutes away by rickshaw van. Since the put-put (named after the lovely noise that it makes) is broken we had to walk/get a man powered rickshaw van. I felt so bad for the poor little legs of the man who was pedaling four of us girls into town. (My greatest fear is falling off the rickshaw van into the open sewers that are along the side the road. Let’s pray that never happens).
Every time we go into town with a different lady that works here we end up going to different little shops and experience totally different things. This week we went in with Oly who works in the office. She was getting food because she was preparing dinner for a pastor who is visiting. Oly took us to the fish market, which is probably the most disgusting place ever. But what do you expect when there are half dead fish everywhere that are dying slowly and smell awful. After that we went through the spice market that has tons of turmeric and other spices, I love the smell of that place. Oly bought us each a shingara (a little pastry with curried potatoes inside) and I’m pretty sure that it made my day. They were so good. Going to town really cheered me up!
While talking to a good friend of mine today he told me that he was jealous that I got to be here in Bangladesh. It helped remind me of how thankful I am to be here in Bangladesh. I know that soon my family will all be celebrating my return and we will all be in my grandma’s house together. As for now, I am just so thankful that I am experiencing this time in Bangladesh. I thank God for this adventure that he is leading me on.
I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!
First part of my favorite season has past and I am still not an emotional wreck. This is a good sign. Thanksgiving was still harder than I thought it would be. I felt so exhausted from the week that teaching on Thanksgiving was more miserable than fun. I just kind of sat there looking out the window rather then trying to restrain the kids in my class from bouncing off the ceiling. They were especially crazy on Thursday and I just couldn’t handle it. Tuli is helping this new girl learn how to read and so she hasn’t been there to help me out. Our Thanksgiving dinner was really nice though. Heather, Lauren, and I got dressed up in our Sharis and decorated the table with leaves and candles. We ate homemade gluten, mashed potatoes (mashed by hand), stuffing, green bean casserole, and of course pumpkin pie. It was a pleasant meal where we ate far too much but enjoyed ourselves in the process.
It wasn’t until I woke up this morning that I felt upset that I wasn’t with my family. It was frustrating because skype wouldn’t work and I just wanted to talk to them so badly… so I called. We had 12 minutes of me on speakerphone and different people telling me hello. I couldn’t help but giggle as everyone was showing their uniqueness in the way they spoke to me for their few seconds. Afterwards I walked inside my room beaming and exclaiming how happy I was to have talked to some of my family members.. then I had to walk back out to my porch and cry a little bit.
Being away from the people you love is so hard when you know that they are all together celebrating. It gives one a feeling of being alone even when there are plenty of people here. I was determined to not let this emotion take over so Lauren, Heather, and I went into town. Going to town keeps us sane. It helps to get off the orphanage compound at least once a week and buy something random in town. We usually don’t spend more than 5 American dollars but it is still worth it to make the journey. Town is about 30 minutes away by rickshaw van. Since the put-put (named after the lovely noise that it makes) is broken we had to walk/get a man powered rickshaw van. I felt so bad for the poor little legs of the man who was pedaling four of us girls into town. (My greatest fear is falling off the rickshaw van into the open sewers that are along the side the road. Let’s pray that never happens).
Every time we go into town with a different lady that works here we end up going to different little shops and experience totally different things. This week we went in with Oly who works in the office. She was getting food because she was preparing dinner for a pastor who is visiting. Oly took us to the fish market, which is probably the most disgusting place ever. But what do you expect when there are half dead fish everywhere that are dying slowly and smell awful. After that we went through the spice market that has tons of turmeric and other spices, I love the smell of that place. Oly bought us each a shingara (a little pastry with curried potatoes inside) and I’m pretty sure that it made my day. They were so good. Going to town really cheered me up!
While talking to a good friend of mine today he told me that he was jealous that I got to be here in Bangladesh. It helped remind me of how thankful I am to be here in Bangladesh. I know that soon my family will all be celebrating my return and we will all be in my grandma’s house together. As for now, I am just so thankful that I am experiencing this time in Bangladesh. I thank God for this adventure that he is leading me on.
I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
What is Love?
(If you were like me you probably started singing that one song and dancing around when you read the title. If you are not like me (or don’t know that song).. I’m sorry to inform you of my insanity!)
The longer I am here the deeper I fall in love with the kids. Yes, they are crazy and sometimes it seems as if they are bouncing of the wall or using me as a jungle gym but I cannot help but love them. It is easy for me to like people but I think it is an entirely different thing for me to truly love someone. I admit that I do not love people like I should. I find myself getting more frustrated with people rather than loving them. This is what makes Jesus’ love so RADICAL. How could he love people who were so mean, cruel, and most of all selfish? It doesn’t make sense but yet it is so beautiful that it just leaves me in awe of what Jesus did by coming down to the world to die.
I’ve been talking a lot about being selfish in my posts lately. This is because the more that I focus on Jesus the more that I realize how selfish I am and that I am incapable of truly loving people like he loved people. I honestly couldn’t make it through a day remaining happy and positive without asking Jesus to give me energy and happiness. I realized that He could give me energy to keep up with 118 crazy children (all of whom believing that it is possible for me to give each one of them undivided attention at the same time). And if God can do all of this that means He can fill me with a deeper love for people than I ever thought possible.
True Love (I’m not talking about romantic love) is so much deeper than I feel like I can fully comprehend. Yet when I look at Danny (like I am right now) I cannot help but care so deeply about him and all the things that are going to happen in his life. During week of prayer (WOP is mostly in Bangla and is painfully long) I have a lot of time to think (or space out depending on how tired I am). Sometimes I just look at the kids and I think “Oh my word I love them so much!”
Before arriving at Bangla Hope my friend Kelsey (previous missionary) told me, “be careful those children will steal your heart.” At first, I didn’t know how I would survive living in the orphanage compound. The kids overwhelmed me; I couldn’t leave my house without being attacked. I sometimes felt like a famous movie star who was hiding from paparazzi. Of course they have all stolen my heart but I think I am just beginning to understand what Kelsey really meant. I am just beginning to understand a fraction of the love that Jesus feels for every one of us. I am just beginning to understand what love is.
“I’m absolutely convinced that nothing- nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable- absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us”
Romans 8:38-39 (The Message)
Now that is real unchangeable, uncomprehendible, and unfailing love!
The longer I am here the deeper I fall in love with the kids. Yes, they are crazy and sometimes it seems as if they are bouncing of the wall or using me as a jungle gym but I cannot help but love them. It is easy for me to like people but I think it is an entirely different thing for me to truly love someone. I admit that I do not love people like I should. I find myself getting more frustrated with people rather than loving them. This is what makes Jesus’ love so RADICAL. How could he love people who were so mean, cruel, and most of all selfish? It doesn’t make sense but yet it is so beautiful that it just leaves me in awe of what Jesus did by coming down to the world to die.
I’ve been talking a lot about being selfish in my posts lately. This is because the more that I focus on Jesus the more that I realize how selfish I am and that I am incapable of truly loving people like he loved people. I honestly couldn’t make it through a day remaining happy and positive without asking Jesus to give me energy and happiness. I realized that He could give me energy to keep up with 118 crazy children (all of whom believing that it is possible for me to give each one of them undivided attention at the same time). And if God can do all of this that means He can fill me with a deeper love for people than I ever thought possible.
True Love (I’m not talking about romantic love) is so much deeper than I feel like I can fully comprehend. Yet when I look at Danny (like I am right now) I cannot help but care so deeply about him and all the things that are going to happen in his life. During week of prayer (WOP is mostly in Bangla and is painfully long) I have a lot of time to think (or space out depending on how tired I am). Sometimes I just look at the kids and I think “Oh my word I love them so much!”
Before arriving at Bangla Hope my friend Kelsey (previous missionary) told me, “be careful those children will steal your heart.” At first, I didn’t know how I would survive living in the orphanage compound. The kids overwhelmed me; I couldn’t leave my house without being attacked. I sometimes felt like a famous movie star who was hiding from paparazzi. Of course they have all stolen my heart but I think I am just beginning to understand what Kelsey really meant. I am just beginning to understand a fraction of the love that Jesus feels for every one of us. I am just beginning to understand what love is.
“I’m absolutely convinced that nothing- nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable- absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us”
Romans 8:38-39 (The Message)
Now that is real unchangeable, uncomprehendible, and unfailing love!
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The Extended Family
Today I became the daughter of Danny and Marissa, the twin sister of Diana, the niece of Kakoli, and the extended family is growing every hour by at least two or three. I came out of my house this afternoon to be dragged into my new “house” where my new mom had prepared me a lovely dinner of Ice cream and curry that was made from water and sand. Of course she put a few greens on my plate (clovers) because that is what every good mom does. My father, Danny took me to Hili and Dhaka and then he preached a good sermon on Sabbath. You can do so much when you play house! I even had my birthday and got a huge mound of sand… I mean cake!
I couldn’t help but laugh as I was dragged around the campus and forced to “sleep” in a bed made of broken tiles behind a tropical tree. Marissa would tell me in a motherly tone, “Chantel, it is time for you to sleep… no, lay all the way down,” the rest of the kids would just giggle at me being treated as a slave of a daughter. These kids are fun and they really do bring out the kid in me. My love for them is growing everyday. I almost cried today when saying goodnight to Danny because he was just so sweet and kept asking me not to go. I use to give huge giant hugs to a few of the kids before bed and now I give giant hugs to almost all of the older kids and my face gets so many kisses that it can get gross sometimes.
This morning was a little tough because I really wanted to talk to my family at home but I couldn’t because I don’t have access to a phone right now. But as the day kept going I realized that I have a family here in Bangladesh as well as in America. These kids are my family now and I’m not just talking about the game of house we played this afternoon.
I feel that family is more than just blood relations. Family is people that you love no matter what. You love them when you haven't talked to them forever or seen their face.
God is teaching me so much. One of the biggest lessons I'm learning is how to really Love.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I was dragged around the campus and forced to “sleep” in a bed made of broken tiles behind a tropical tree. Marissa would tell me in a motherly tone, “Chantel, it is time for you to sleep… no, lay all the way down,” the rest of the kids would just giggle at me being treated as a slave of a daughter. These kids are fun and they really do bring out the kid in me. My love for them is growing everyday. I almost cried today when saying goodnight to Danny because he was just so sweet and kept asking me not to go. I use to give huge giant hugs to a few of the kids before bed and now I give giant hugs to almost all of the older kids and my face gets so many kisses that it can get gross sometimes.
This morning was a little tough because I really wanted to talk to my family at home but I couldn’t because I don’t have access to a phone right now. But as the day kept going I realized that I have a family here in Bangladesh as well as in America. These kids are my family now and I’m not just talking about the game of house we played this afternoon.
I feel that family is more than just blood relations. Family is people that you love no matter what. You love them when you haven't talked to them forever or seen their face.
God is teaching me so much. One of the biggest lessons I'm learning is how to really Love.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Happy
The first Sabbath I was here I sat down on the floor with the kids during church. On the back of the mat sat a beautiful young girl who I would later find out is named Mehtali. She is 11 years old and is very thin but has the most gorgeous thick black hair that falls half way down her back. My first impression was that she talked A LOT. That first Sabbath she whispered to me the whole time and almost none of it was comprehendible. Even now that I know her she’ll go on a tangent about something in banglish (English + Bangla) and then ends it with, “but you have to promise you wont tell anyone.” Of course I always promise not to tell anyone because I have no clue what she was talking about in the first place. These last few weeks she has clung to me and is one of my closest companions here. I have brought out my watercolor paint set and am trying to teach her how to paint.
Mehtali hasn’t had an easy past and just today I found out her life right now isn’t particularly easy either. She grew up in the slums of Dhaka and has probably seen things and lived through things that I don’t want to know about. It seems that everyone who comes from Dhaka is plagued with a fear of people and the things that they may do to them. So often I am with her when she starts rambling about how something scares her so much. Even here in this haven of Bangla Hope she says that her greatest fear is being raped when she gets up to go to the bathroom in the night. Why should a little kid be so worried about being raped? Why does that have to happen? The world is so messed up.
Today she dragged me into her house and I was shocked by what I saw. After taking my shoes off I stepped into a tiny room with a concrete floor and all the possessions of the four people who lived inside. The room (or should I say house) was half the size of the room that Lauren, Heather, and I share (which fits our three beds and a little table). I asked her where she slept since I spotted only one small bed that took up half the room. She looked down to the floor and point to the spot that was hers and then pointed to where her mother and sister slept. Her father took claim of the bed. I then asked her if she had a pad that she slept on and she pointed to a thin mat made of grass woven together. She virtually wears the same dress everyday and apparently she sleeps in that same dress. Mehtali was trying to be a good hostess but then she realized that she didn’t have any food to give me and it made her so sad. I tried to tell her it was okay because I was suppose to eat in a few minutes but I could tell that she still felt upset about it.
Mehtali is tough, insecure, afraid, beautiful, and one of the most loving girls I’ve met. After she was done painting in my room last night I walked her half way to her house. She gave me a huge hug and didn’t let go of me for several minutes so I just held her. She kissed me on the cheek and then skipped off with her face beaming. She is so happy with so little and is simply overjoyed with the fact that I am her friend. Mehtali is so precious.
Mehtali hasn’t had an easy past and just today I found out her life right now isn’t particularly easy either. She grew up in the slums of Dhaka and has probably seen things and lived through things that I don’t want to know about. It seems that everyone who comes from Dhaka is plagued with a fear of people and the things that they may do to them. So often I am with her when she starts rambling about how something scares her so much. Even here in this haven of Bangla Hope she says that her greatest fear is being raped when she gets up to go to the bathroom in the night. Why should a little kid be so worried about being raped? Why does that have to happen? The world is so messed up.
Today she dragged me into her house and I was shocked by what I saw. After taking my shoes off I stepped into a tiny room with a concrete floor and all the possessions of the four people who lived inside. The room (or should I say house) was half the size of the room that Lauren, Heather, and I share (which fits our three beds and a little table). I asked her where she slept since I spotted only one small bed that took up half the room. She looked down to the floor and point to the spot that was hers and then pointed to where her mother and sister slept. Her father took claim of the bed. I then asked her if she had a pad that she slept on and she pointed to a thin mat made of grass woven together. She virtually wears the same dress everyday and apparently she sleeps in that same dress. Mehtali was trying to be a good hostess but then she realized that she didn’t have any food to give me and it made her so sad. I tried to tell her it was okay because I was suppose to eat in a few minutes but I could tell that she still felt upset about it.
Mehtali is tough, insecure, afraid, beautiful, and one of the most loving girls I’ve met. After she was done painting in my room last night I walked her half way to her house. She gave me a huge hug and didn’t let go of me for several minutes so I just held her. She kissed me on the cheek and then skipped off with her face beaming. She is so happy with so little and is simply overjoyed with the fact that I am her friend. Mehtali is so precious.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Give Until it Hurts
“If any of you wants to be a follower,’ he told them “you must put aside your selfish ambition, shoulder your cross and follow me. If you try to keep you life for yourself, you will lose it but if you give your life for my sake and for the sake of the good news you will find true life.’”
Mark 8:34-35
I’m going to be honest; I’m selfish. I hate that I am so selfish about everything: my time, food, energy, and just about anything else. One of the reasons I wanted to be a student missionary is that I wanted to stop being selfish (a pretty selfish reason don’t you think?). I don’t think life should only be about your desires and needs but about the people around you. God made so many other beautiful people in the world and I want to look at each one of them as beautiful individuals that deserve the same opportunities that I have received. I also believe that we should share the things that we have been so blessed to receive. I wish I could say that I am completely cured from my selfishness because I am now a missionary but I am not. It may be a journey that will take a lifetime but Bangladesh has definitely helped me become more selfless.
The villagers are some of the most selfless people I know. Today as I was running on the playground chasing kids I stopped for a moment and looked at this old Hindu lady who was along the fence. I sent a huge grin her way and said, “Nomashcar” and then continued playing. This made her so excited and so she signaled Mehtali over and began to have her translate for her. She was so happy that I was nice to her and she thought I was pretty. Then she invited Mehtali and I over for dinner at her house. I had just eaten dinner so I told her thank you. A smile still lingered on her face as she turned to leave.
It really got me thinking. This woman probably has very little money and food and yet she is inviting a “rich” American girl over to her house to eat her food. I’ve seen the villagers out everyday harvesting their rice in the hot sun just so they can have food to eat and yet they are so willing to share with me when they clearly need it more. How often have I not shared something because I wanted it for myself? It probably happens everyday.
The people here seem to give until it hurts and I’m starting to feel this question form in my mind: what would happen if I gave until it hurt? Would I find that it wouldn’t hurt as bad as I had previously conceived? I believe that once we learn to give all that we have (our whole lives) that we do really find that “true life” that Jesus talks about.
Mark 8:34-35
I’m going to be honest; I’m selfish. I hate that I am so selfish about everything: my time, food, energy, and just about anything else. One of the reasons I wanted to be a student missionary is that I wanted to stop being selfish (a pretty selfish reason don’t you think?). I don’t think life should only be about your desires and needs but about the people around you. God made so many other beautiful people in the world and I want to look at each one of them as beautiful individuals that deserve the same opportunities that I have received. I also believe that we should share the things that we have been so blessed to receive. I wish I could say that I am completely cured from my selfishness because I am now a missionary but I am not. It may be a journey that will take a lifetime but Bangladesh has definitely helped me become more selfless.
The villagers are some of the most selfless people I know. Today as I was running on the playground chasing kids I stopped for a moment and looked at this old Hindu lady who was along the fence. I sent a huge grin her way and said, “Nomashcar” and then continued playing. This made her so excited and so she signaled Mehtali over and began to have her translate for her. She was so happy that I was nice to her and she thought I was pretty. Then she invited Mehtali and I over for dinner at her house. I had just eaten dinner so I told her thank you. A smile still lingered on her face as she turned to leave.
It really got me thinking. This woman probably has very little money and food and yet she is inviting a “rich” American girl over to her house to eat her food. I’ve seen the villagers out everyday harvesting their rice in the hot sun just so they can have food to eat and yet they are so willing to share with me when they clearly need it more. How often have I not shared something because I wanted it for myself? It probably happens everyday.
The people here seem to give until it hurts and I’m starting to feel this question form in my mind: what would happen if I gave until it hurt? Would I find that it wouldn’t hurt as bad as I had previously conceived? I believe that once we learn to give all that we have (our whole lives) that we do really find that “true life” that Jesus talks about.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Photos.
Here is a link to some pictures that I have taken in Bangladesh:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2393352084597.122212.1574787470&type=1&l=9e86cdbdbe
Enjoy
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2393352084597.122212.1574787470&type=1&l=9e86cdbdbe
Enjoy
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Bengali Birthday
Today was Bani and Martinia’s birthday. Martinia is the 14-year-old daughter of our chef Shati and Bani is a 20 year old that is going to take over the medical clinic when she finishes nursing school. Birthday’s are very special in Bangladesh and it usually entails the birthday person to give presents to everyone they care about. Bani got the all kids treats as well as us missionaries and Shati threw a huge party for her daughter. Everything was centered around these two birthday girls.
In art we made hand turkeys for thanksgiving. We explained to the kids what Thanksgiving was and how everyone ate turkeys so they were special to us (I never realized how weird that sounded until it came out of my mouth in class). Then we taught them the turkey song “If God can love Turkeys than God can love you. Because you are a turkey and I am one too” (yay for camp songs) we also taught them how to make a noise like a turkey (which they did for the rest of the day). Most of the kids made their turkeys for Martinia or Bani so they probably have 20 turkeys now.
Martinia’s birthday party was super fun. Tuli seemed to be the entertainment coordinator while we waited for everyone to get there (it took about 45 min or more for everyone to get there). She began this game where we passed the balloon and if the music stopped while you were holding it you were suppose to get up front and do something in front of everyone. Some of the kids got it and they danced or sang but then Tuli thought it would be funny if she made all the older people do it. She made Bob and Kerri get up front and play the piano while Kerri dance. It was hilarious and all the Bengali people loved it. After making them do it twice she dragged the Waid’s up there as well and then the three missionary girls; we did the chicken dance. Whoever said that white Adventist people shouldn’t dance was probably right, it isn’t pretty hahaha. After that, Tisha (one of my second graders) came up and did a cultural Bengali dance for martinia, I was very impressed with her skills. It was the dance that she was trying to teach me the other night but then just laughed at me instead.
They brought all of us cake, ice cream, oranges, and this Indian trail mix cereal. They gave us huge portions and now I feel so over stuffed. The people here must think Americans need a lot of food because they always make me eat way past my limit. It was hilarious to see some of the kids get ice cream; I’m not sure how often they get that sort of treat. Since they are Bengali they ate it with their hands and they kept saying “tunda” (cold) and making weird faces as they danced about because they couldn’t stand how cold it was in their mouths. I must admit it was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.
Random Fact: Saborna came up to me and told me to cow some of her potatoes chips.. I was very confused but then I discovered that the word “cow” means eat in Bengali. I cowed a lot today.
I hope that all of you have a blessed Sunday! Mine was great!
In art we made hand turkeys for thanksgiving. We explained to the kids what Thanksgiving was and how everyone ate turkeys so they were special to us (I never realized how weird that sounded until it came out of my mouth in class). Then we taught them the turkey song “If God can love Turkeys than God can love you. Because you are a turkey and I am one too” (yay for camp songs) we also taught them how to make a noise like a turkey (which they did for the rest of the day). Most of the kids made their turkeys for Martinia or Bani so they probably have 20 turkeys now.
Martinia’s birthday party was super fun. Tuli seemed to be the entertainment coordinator while we waited for everyone to get there (it took about 45 min or more for everyone to get there). She began this game where we passed the balloon and if the music stopped while you were holding it you were suppose to get up front and do something in front of everyone. Some of the kids got it and they danced or sang but then Tuli thought it would be funny if she made all the older people do it. She made Bob and Kerri get up front and play the piano while Kerri dance. It was hilarious and all the Bengali people loved it. After making them do it twice she dragged the Waid’s up there as well and then the three missionary girls; we did the chicken dance. Whoever said that white Adventist people shouldn’t dance was probably right, it isn’t pretty hahaha. After that, Tisha (one of my second graders) came up and did a cultural Bengali dance for martinia, I was very impressed with her skills. It was the dance that she was trying to teach me the other night but then just laughed at me instead.
They brought all of us cake, ice cream, oranges, and this Indian trail mix cereal. They gave us huge portions and now I feel so over stuffed. The people here must think Americans need a lot of food because they always make me eat way past my limit. It was hilarious to see some of the kids get ice cream; I’m not sure how often they get that sort of treat. Since they are Bengali they ate it with their hands and they kept saying “tunda” (cold) and making weird faces as they danced about because they couldn’t stand how cold it was in their mouths. I must admit it was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.
Random Fact: Saborna came up to me and told me to cow some of her potatoes chips.. I was very confused but then I discovered that the word “cow” means eat in Bengali. I cowed a lot today.
I hope that all of you have a blessed Sunday! Mine was great!
Friday, November 11, 2011
Spelling Tests, Sleep Overs, and Chapattis
My kids did well on their spelling tests! I was so proud of them. Kathi is one of my slower girls and she got 100 % on her test! I cannot explain how happy it made me to see her face beam with confidence. After school I was exhausted because I had been teaching all morning and afternoon so I just bummed around so that I could regain my energy for the slumber party.
Lauren, Heather, and I thought it would be a good idea to invite a small group of about five girls up to our room to spend the night every Thursday night. About an hour before the first sleep over was suppose to start we found out that some of the girls still wet the bed and it wouldn’t be a good idea to have them sleep over. We had already given each of the girls a little invitation to come to our house at 7 so we just decided to have a game night instead and keep them up a little passed their bed time (because kids love that).
When the girls came up we broke out the game Twister and Lauren and I demonstrated how to play. All the girls just stared at us not sure what we were doing or what they should be doing. So Lauren and I just kept playing and soon enough all of us were twisted around each other laughing non-stop. Marissa thought it was fun to tickle you when you were in an awkward position trying to keep your balance (the little cheater). It soon became a game of pushing the person next to you over but they enjoyed it so we let them giggle as the game diminished. After that we played Down by the Banks and Telephone. In the middle of the game Melony began to cough so I patted her back and just said, “let it out.” Before I knew it she threw up a little on the floor (she’s been doing this for a while and she will be going to the doctors on Monday). Lauren quickly said, “Well maybe you shouldn’t have let it ALL out.” Everyone just began laughing as we cleaned the mess up and continued on with our night.
We read them three bedtime stories (Lauren, Heather, and I each got to read one) and then we walked them down to their rooms. Who knew that the game Twister could be so much fun! Today I got a thank you letter from Kami that said, “I am so happy I pary (party) you and your famile.” It made my day.
Fridays are not typically busy because we have no classes to teach. Normally we try to go into town even if we have nothing we need to buy; just so we can get away for an afternoon. Today we couldn’t get into town so I decided it would be the perfect day to work with Shati in the kitchen. She was making Chapattis for dinner so I jumped in to help. Chapattis are like mini tortillas and it only takes three ingredients flour, water, and salt. She showed me how to make the dough and then she rolled one out to give me an example. Her hands moved quickly as she made a perfect thin circle; she made it look easy. I quickly began to roll out my first lump of dough and realized that the skill did not come naturally. I was so determined to make a beautiful perfect shaped chapatti that I poured my heart and soul into my rolling. Some of the girls would come in and they taught me how to say I’m making Chapatti’s in Bangla “Ami chapatti bangi.” The ladies who work in various places at the orphanage would come in and either laugh at me or tell me in bangla that my lop sided chapattis looked beautiful. One lady who works in the kitchen wrapped her arm around me giggling; she was so happy to see that I was working with her. I think that sometimes we give the impression that we are better than the Bengali people because we are white and need special food that is clean. I think they all just appreciated the fact that I was on their level.
I made all the chapattis (except for the first one that Shati used as an example) and it took me forever because I was so slow plus I had to pick out the occasional bug that made it’s way into the dough. None of them looked good either. Tonight when Shati brought in the chapattis with beans inside I couldn’t help but laugh at how silly they looked around the edges. They tasted delicious despite their appearances. I’m just happy that I had the opportunity to cook because it puts me in a good mood. I find it very therapeutic.
What a good way to bring in the Sabbath.
Lauren, Heather, and I thought it would be a good idea to invite a small group of about five girls up to our room to spend the night every Thursday night. About an hour before the first sleep over was suppose to start we found out that some of the girls still wet the bed and it wouldn’t be a good idea to have them sleep over. We had already given each of the girls a little invitation to come to our house at 7 so we just decided to have a game night instead and keep them up a little passed their bed time (because kids love that).
When the girls came up we broke out the game Twister and Lauren and I demonstrated how to play. All the girls just stared at us not sure what we were doing or what they should be doing. So Lauren and I just kept playing and soon enough all of us were twisted around each other laughing non-stop. Marissa thought it was fun to tickle you when you were in an awkward position trying to keep your balance (the little cheater). It soon became a game of pushing the person next to you over but they enjoyed it so we let them giggle as the game diminished. After that we played Down by the Banks and Telephone. In the middle of the game Melony began to cough so I patted her back and just said, “let it out.” Before I knew it she threw up a little on the floor (she’s been doing this for a while and she will be going to the doctors on Monday). Lauren quickly said, “Well maybe you shouldn’t have let it ALL out.” Everyone just began laughing as we cleaned the mess up and continued on with our night.
We read them three bedtime stories (Lauren, Heather, and I each got to read one) and then we walked them down to their rooms. Who knew that the game Twister could be so much fun! Today I got a thank you letter from Kami that said, “I am so happy I pary (party) you and your famile.” It made my day.
Fridays are not typically busy because we have no classes to teach. Normally we try to go into town even if we have nothing we need to buy; just so we can get away for an afternoon. Today we couldn’t get into town so I decided it would be the perfect day to work with Shati in the kitchen. She was making Chapattis for dinner so I jumped in to help. Chapattis are like mini tortillas and it only takes three ingredients flour, water, and salt. She showed me how to make the dough and then she rolled one out to give me an example. Her hands moved quickly as she made a perfect thin circle; she made it look easy. I quickly began to roll out my first lump of dough and realized that the skill did not come naturally. I was so determined to make a beautiful perfect shaped chapatti that I poured my heart and soul into my rolling. Some of the girls would come in and they taught me how to say I’m making Chapatti’s in Bangla “Ami chapatti bangi.” The ladies who work in various places at the orphanage would come in and either laugh at me or tell me in bangla that my lop sided chapattis looked beautiful. One lady who works in the kitchen wrapped her arm around me giggling; she was so happy to see that I was working with her. I think that sometimes we give the impression that we are better than the Bengali people because we are white and need special food that is clean. I think they all just appreciated the fact that I was on their level.
I made all the chapattis (except for the first one that Shati used as an example) and it took me forever because I was so slow plus I had to pick out the occasional bug that made it’s way into the dough. None of them looked good either. Tonight when Shati brought in the chapattis with beans inside I couldn’t help but laugh at how silly they looked around the edges. They tasted delicious despite their appearances. I’m just happy that I had the opportunity to cook because it puts me in a good mood. I find it very therapeutic.
What a good way to bring in the Sabbath.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Culture
I was always a terrible speller when I was in grade school. I can remember the girl that sat across from me would fake yawn and exclaim how easy the words were as we were taking a spelling test. Meanwhile I would be struggling through the whole thing. It frustrated me. Now I am trying to teach second graders how to spell words in both English and Bangla. The first week I was trying to see what the kids knew. The previous teacher had told me that the book I was going to go through was “review” so I could go through it a little faster. It turned out to be an epic fail where most of the kids didn’t pass the spelling test at the end of the week.. so much for a “review” they spelt the word egg=Ak.
This week I have been determined to spend half of the class time on the spelling words so that they will all get 100 percent. I’ve been creatively thinking of ways to have fun while teaching them how to spell words. Today we had a spelling bee. We had two teams: The Penguins and The Polar Bears. Each of them lined up behind two desks and whoever hit the desk first and spelled the word correctly would get a point. It was really fun at first and the kids were enjoying it because the teams were pretty even. Then Brittany’s turn came up on the Penguin’s side and she just sat there; she didn’t even try. I tried to get members from her team to help her out but that didn’t help because by that time they were losing so all of the team members lost their excitement. All of a sudden Hannah burst into tears because her team was losing. Determined to save the game, I switched the teams up moving Kakoli and Joshua over to the losing team and Kara over to the winning team. This made the game a little more even but when it came to the last point the Polar Bears won. About half of team Penguin began to cry. Fail.
After the horrid spelling bee accident we went to an Eid dinner. Eid is that holiday where the Muslims kill the cows. Apparently the Hindu’s in India send over all their old cows (because they can’t eat them.. because then they would be eating their god) and the Muslims killed them all on Monday. After that the poor people go from house to house with a bag and the rich people put a chunk of meat in their bag (it is a twisted version of trick or treating.. I prefer candy). We drove 45 minutes to the house of Siddigue who is an Adventist man in the area. His wife cooked us a huge meal; all of it was vegetarian and Bengali. There was curry, egg pudding, fried peppers, Pomegranates, oranges, cucumbers, fried boiled eggs, and a bunch of other things that I’m not a hundred percent sure what it was. It all tasted good but I wasn’t brave enough to try the fried boiled egg… it just sounded gross. Lauren, Heather, and I ate the Bengali way and only used our fingers. It is an art form and I think I’ve almost got it down!
The Bengali way of “having someone over to your house” is way different than the American. Bengali’s let you sit in the living room by yourselves while they fix the food and then when it is finally time to eat you sit there while they watch you and make sure you are taken care of. They just stood there watching us eat the whole time and we all felt very awkward. They don’t sit down and visit with you and they don’t even eat until you leave. As soon as we were done eating we left without saying more than 5 sentences to the people who had cooked our food. We left full and very much confused.
On the way back Kerri mentioned something to Ponwell about how I had said at one time that I would like a few eucalyptus leaves and then Ponwell said something to our driver in Bangla. Before I knew it Joseph had pulled over and was climbing on the roof of our car getting some for me. He brought a whole branch from the tree in for me. The people here are so kind hahah. It just made me chuckle.
Got to love the Bengali culture even with its quirks.
This week I have been determined to spend half of the class time on the spelling words so that they will all get 100 percent. I’ve been creatively thinking of ways to have fun while teaching them how to spell words. Today we had a spelling bee. We had two teams: The Penguins and The Polar Bears. Each of them lined up behind two desks and whoever hit the desk first and spelled the word correctly would get a point. It was really fun at first and the kids were enjoying it because the teams were pretty even. Then Brittany’s turn came up on the Penguin’s side and she just sat there; she didn’t even try. I tried to get members from her team to help her out but that didn’t help because by that time they were losing so all of the team members lost their excitement. All of a sudden Hannah burst into tears because her team was losing. Determined to save the game, I switched the teams up moving Kakoli and Joshua over to the losing team and Kara over to the winning team. This made the game a little more even but when it came to the last point the Polar Bears won. About half of team Penguin began to cry. Fail.
After the horrid spelling bee accident we went to an Eid dinner. Eid is that holiday where the Muslims kill the cows. Apparently the Hindu’s in India send over all their old cows (because they can’t eat them.. because then they would be eating their god) and the Muslims killed them all on Monday. After that the poor people go from house to house with a bag and the rich people put a chunk of meat in their bag (it is a twisted version of trick or treating.. I prefer candy). We drove 45 minutes to the house of Siddigue who is an Adventist man in the area. His wife cooked us a huge meal; all of it was vegetarian and Bengali. There was curry, egg pudding, fried peppers, Pomegranates, oranges, cucumbers, fried boiled eggs, and a bunch of other things that I’m not a hundred percent sure what it was. It all tasted good but I wasn’t brave enough to try the fried boiled egg… it just sounded gross. Lauren, Heather, and I ate the Bengali way and only used our fingers. It is an art form and I think I’ve almost got it down!
The Bengali way of “having someone over to your house” is way different than the American. Bengali’s let you sit in the living room by yourselves while they fix the food and then when it is finally time to eat you sit there while they watch you and make sure you are taken care of. They just stood there watching us eat the whole time and we all felt very awkward. They don’t sit down and visit with you and they don’t even eat until you leave. As soon as we were done eating we left without saying more than 5 sentences to the people who had cooked our food. We left full and very much confused.
On the way back Kerri mentioned something to Ponwell about how I had said at one time that I would like a few eucalyptus leaves and then Ponwell said something to our driver in Bangla. Before I knew it Joseph had pulled over and was climbing on the roof of our car getting some for me. He brought a whole branch from the tree in for me. The people here are so kind hahah. It just made me chuckle.
Got to love the Bengali culture even with its quirks.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
This is Still an Adventure
Everything is beginning to settle down. The new sights, smells, and feelings are beginning to become normal and just a way of life. This morning at breakfast Bob asked us “what new and exciting things do you have planned for today?” and to that none of us had an answer. It is true that everything is becoming less “exciting” in a way. I can walk past things that use to make my stomach and heartache and hardly even notice. I can make a school lesson plan really quickly and even think of fillers in seconds if I have to much time left at the end of class (which doesn’t happen anymore.. now I have to cut stuff out). I use to leave early for dinner because I was starving and now I show up and just sit outside with Noah on my lap and end up being late. It is fascinating how things that use to be so uncomfortable and strange can become so familiar and common. It really opens my eyes to the fact that Jesus can change our hearts and desires.
While talking to Mr. Waid one morning he told me that if someone had told him a long time ago that he would be working at an orphanage when he was 82 he would have told them that they were dropped on their heads on a baby. It made me giggle because I can see how much he loves being here with the children but at one point in his life he didn’t even like children.
Last night I was sitting on the roof looking at the stars and praying and I realized how far God has brought me in my life. If someone had told me that I would be working at an orphanage for 6 months in Bangladesh I would think they were crazy. Now I cannot help but wonder what God has in store for my future. What is he going to change in my heart? What will he lead me to do in my life? But my thoughts can not linger on the future for very long before I realize that when indeed that future does come it means that I have to leave the kids here.
Tonight I spent a long time in the older girls room. They were doing their Bangladesh traditional dancing and I tried to join in. I fumbled around trying to imitate their elegant movements and it made all the girls laugh hysterically. They kept telling me “no, no, no, you do it wrong. Sit down and watch first!” After that they really didn’t let me try again, I must have danced terribly but I am a white Adventist so it only makes sense. So while they danced about the room I just looked at every one of the girls in the room and realized how much I love every single one of them:
How can I leave them?
Every once in a while Kakoli say to me, “Chantel, when you go I will cry so so much.” The longer I’m here the more I am convinced that I will cry just as hard if not harder when I leave. When I leave Bangladesh I will leave a piece of my heart here. So everything may become more “normal” or even “routine” here but that doesn’t mean that it is not still an adventure that leaves my heart swirling with happiness and/or hardships. Even when I cannot answer the question “what new and exciting things do you have planned for today?” I will know that this is still an adventure where God is in control of every moment.
While talking to Mr. Waid one morning he told me that if someone had told him a long time ago that he would be working at an orphanage when he was 82 he would have told them that they were dropped on their heads on a baby. It made me giggle because I can see how much he loves being here with the children but at one point in his life he didn’t even like children.
Last night I was sitting on the roof looking at the stars and praying and I realized how far God has brought me in my life. If someone had told me that I would be working at an orphanage for 6 months in Bangladesh I would think they were crazy. Now I cannot help but wonder what God has in store for my future. What is he going to change in my heart? What will he lead me to do in my life? But my thoughts can not linger on the future for very long before I realize that when indeed that future does come it means that I have to leave the kids here.
Tonight I spent a long time in the older girls room. They were doing their Bangladesh traditional dancing and I tried to join in. I fumbled around trying to imitate their elegant movements and it made all the girls laugh hysterically. They kept telling me “no, no, no, you do it wrong. Sit down and watch first!” After that they really didn’t let me try again, I must have danced terribly but I am a white Adventist so it only makes sense. So while they danced about the room I just looked at every one of the girls in the room and realized how much I love every single one of them:
- I love how Sheba giggles and runs away every time our eyes lock for longer than 3 seconds.
- I love how Tisha slips me a note everyday before class.
- I love how my lap is hardly ever vacant.
- I love how Nathan never has pants on.. that boy is crazy.
- I love how they all come up to me and say, “dimples” and then point out every single one of the dimples on my face.
- I love how some of them come up and ask me to hug them tightly and then they don’t let me go for minutes.
How can I leave them?
Every once in a while Kakoli say to me, “Chantel, when you go I will cry so so much.” The longer I’m here the more I am convinced that I will cry just as hard if not harder when I leave. When I leave Bangladesh I will leave a piece of my heart here. So everything may become more “normal” or even “routine” here but that doesn’t mean that it is not still an adventure that leaves my heart swirling with happiness and/or hardships. Even when I cannot answer the question “what new and exciting things do you have planned for today?” I will know that this is still an adventure where God is in control of every moment.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Better Safe than Sorry
Our internet is being rather difficult lately. We get 1 GB to use per month and we have gone over it and no one who can speak English fluently can tell us anything comprehendible about what we can do to fix it. Lauren and Heather should be in town right now trying to pay for it but if that doesn’t work we will not have our own internet for a whole week because of the Muslim holiday that begins tomorrow (where they kill the cows).
Yesterday I experienced a Bangladeshi potluck, it was very different from the ones I am use to experiencing. Everyone brought a bowl of rice and a few others brought a small bowl of curry. They combined these in to big bowls and then Shati made more dishes so that there was enough food for the whole church. Everyone brings their own plate which they fill mostly with rice and then just a little bit of curry. We were the “guest of honor” so we were suppose to sit at the table with the silverware and we had our own dishes (everyone else ate with their hands, which is typical). It was very interesting but the food was so good and spicy. Shati made apple pie and the other Bengali’s were not use to eating that sort of desert. I don’t think they appreciated it as much as I do (because I love pie).
On our way back from the village Sabbath school something very scary happened. I was walking ahead with three children. One of them was Kakoli and she was holding hands and walking with one of the village girls. We passed this man who just stared at us and then began to follow right behind me. I felt uneasy with him being so close behind Luke, Timothy, and I. Luke stopped me to show me something and the man passed me. When I looked up to see Kakoli I saw the man putting his arm around her as he tried to take her away. She quickly ducked and avoided his arms. He then tried to get the other village girl but she also avoided his grasp. They both ran back to me as Kakoli said, “that man, that man tried to take me!” By that time the man had gone off the road and he was looking at me with this creepy smirk on his face. We continued walking slowly as we let the others catch up to us and made sure he wasn’t following us anymore. It really shook Kakoli up. God was watching out for us.
Sometimes it is easy to get comfortable with where you are but I have to remember that it isn’t safe here. A girl from Dhaka is visiting and she is very afraid of everything and she says that nothing is safe. At first I thought that she needed to get over being so afraid of everything but now I’m beginning to understand that she knows her country better than I do. I know that God is watching over us but we shouldn’t live carelessly. Yesterday was a reality check. Better safe than sorry.
After that event we had a good rest of the day. We played badminton after sundown. Lauren and I beat Bob and Kerri twice, I called out team the “white chicks.” When we were done playing we had some smoothies and then I finished my prep work for school. The more I teach the more I realize how fun it can be to teach little kids! Why was I so worried about being teacher?
(By the end of this post we internet was fixed. YAY)
Yesterday I experienced a Bangladeshi potluck, it was very different from the ones I am use to experiencing. Everyone brought a bowl of rice and a few others brought a small bowl of curry. They combined these in to big bowls and then Shati made more dishes so that there was enough food for the whole church. Everyone brings their own plate which they fill mostly with rice and then just a little bit of curry. We were the “guest of honor” so we were suppose to sit at the table with the silverware and we had our own dishes (everyone else ate with their hands, which is typical). It was very interesting but the food was so good and spicy. Shati made apple pie and the other Bengali’s were not use to eating that sort of desert. I don’t think they appreciated it as much as I do (because I love pie).
On our way back from the village Sabbath school something very scary happened. I was walking ahead with three children. One of them was Kakoli and she was holding hands and walking with one of the village girls. We passed this man who just stared at us and then began to follow right behind me. I felt uneasy with him being so close behind Luke, Timothy, and I. Luke stopped me to show me something and the man passed me. When I looked up to see Kakoli I saw the man putting his arm around her as he tried to take her away. She quickly ducked and avoided his arms. He then tried to get the other village girl but she also avoided his grasp. They both ran back to me as Kakoli said, “that man, that man tried to take me!” By that time the man had gone off the road and he was looking at me with this creepy smirk on his face. We continued walking slowly as we let the others catch up to us and made sure he wasn’t following us anymore. It really shook Kakoli up. God was watching out for us.
Sometimes it is easy to get comfortable with where you are but I have to remember that it isn’t safe here. A girl from Dhaka is visiting and she is very afraid of everything and she says that nothing is safe. At first I thought that she needed to get over being so afraid of everything but now I’m beginning to understand that she knows her country better than I do. I know that God is watching over us but we shouldn’t live carelessly. Yesterday was a reality check. Better safe than sorry.
After that event we had a good rest of the day. We played badminton after sundown. Lauren and I beat Bob and Kerri twice, I called out team the “white chicks.” When we were done playing we had some smoothies and then I finished my prep work for school. The more I teach the more I realize how fun it can be to teach little kids! Why was I so worried about being teacher?
(By the end of this post we internet was fixed. YAY)
Thursday, November 3, 2011
School Picnic
Today was the school picnic (without the picnic.. I don't get it either). Everyone had the school day off so that we could go for a hike and play games. We started at 8:30 with a little “hike” (which is impossible in Bangladesh because it is so flat) to the Ghara School. I was with the third graders and we got there about 10 min before anyone else, so we decided to walk through the village behind the school. The kids took me directly to the “Freedom Fighter’s” house and the next thing I know I was taking my shoes off and stepping onto his dirt floor. The floor was surprisingly smooth and when I lowered my head to walk into the living room I was surprised to see a mud hut so comfortable looking. The walls were covered with pictures and there was a table in the corner with a sketchy light system on it (wires everywhere). There was a door to my right and I had to lower my head yet again to enter into the next room and that is where I saw the freedom fighter sitting on his bed. He was so excited to see me and made me sit down on his couch with the 10 children around me.
The Freedom Fighter was a man that fought when Pakistan was trying to force Bangladesh to accept their culture. Pakistan had crossed over India and had begun to murder all the educated people in Bangladesh (about 1 million people were killed). Bangladesh hasn’t recovered since this tragic event, which explains why all the people have so little knowledge of things that we deem as “common sense,” they were basically put back in the dark ages. The freedom fighter fought in 1971 for the countries independence. I’m not sure what happened but he cannot walk without a cane and someone helping him. He speaks English very well but it is still hard to understand what he’s talking about; he’s kind of crazy. Once he begins to talk about his story he doesn’t really stop. I practically had to walk out of his house in the middle of his talking because he wouldn’t listen to me when I said I had to leave. He’s a very nice fellow though.
When we got back to the campus Lauren, Papri, and I went in side the cafeteria to blow up a few balloons for the games that we were going to play. The Balloons smelled funny and were made in Bangladesh; I’m sure that blowing them up will give me cancer because of the smelly toxins but it was worth it to see the kids get so excited. A caregiver was helping us and every time a balloon would pop she would laugh so hard and all the kitchen workers would jump back. Bani walked in with spicy rice and dhal and Lauren and I wanted to try it. We ate like the typical Bangladeshi’s and used the silverware that God gave us: our hands. The Bengali people eat so gracefully with their hands while Lauren and I got it everywhere as we tipped our heads back and let the spicy food fall into our open mouths. After they saw that we enjoyed the food they wanted us to try the caregivers food. It was a spicy curry with potatoes and eggplant. Papri just sat there picking out the potatoes and laughing at Lauren because she didn’t like how spicy the food was. I’m beginning to get use to the spicy food that they make for the caregivers; it is actually enjoyable now. Tomorrow Shati is going to teach us how to make Dahl so that I can make it for my family when I get home.
When we went back outside the kids were bobbing for apples and playing various other games with the balloons that we had blown up. They got special treats such as this colorful rice pasta that was fried. I thought it was flavorless but the kids thought it was a real treat. They also received a piece of chocolate and many of them wanted to give me their candy even though they rarely get any. They are so selfless.
After the games were done the kids began to watch a cartoon in Bangla and Lauren, Bani, Heather, Kerri, and I went into town to pick up our Shari blouses that were being tailored and to pay for our internet. While in town we saw the cow and goat market that is getting ready for the holiday coming up next week. It is a Muslim holiday where they kill the old cows and give away the meat to the poor people. We won’t be going into town next week because all the stores will be closed and we also don’t want to see dead cows everywhere (I’m vegetarian for a reason). Thank goodness the villagers around us are Hindu so they don’t participate in the holiday.
Right now I feel too exhausted to type anymore. Just know…
that today was just a very good day.
The Freedom Fighter was a man that fought when Pakistan was trying to force Bangladesh to accept their culture. Pakistan had crossed over India and had begun to murder all the educated people in Bangladesh (about 1 million people were killed). Bangladesh hasn’t recovered since this tragic event, which explains why all the people have so little knowledge of things that we deem as “common sense,” they were basically put back in the dark ages. The freedom fighter fought in 1971 for the countries independence. I’m not sure what happened but he cannot walk without a cane and someone helping him. He speaks English very well but it is still hard to understand what he’s talking about; he’s kind of crazy. Once he begins to talk about his story he doesn’t really stop. I practically had to walk out of his house in the middle of his talking because he wouldn’t listen to me when I said I had to leave. He’s a very nice fellow though.
When we got back to the campus Lauren, Papri, and I went in side the cafeteria to blow up a few balloons for the games that we were going to play. The Balloons smelled funny and were made in Bangladesh; I’m sure that blowing them up will give me cancer because of the smelly toxins but it was worth it to see the kids get so excited. A caregiver was helping us and every time a balloon would pop she would laugh so hard and all the kitchen workers would jump back. Bani walked in with spicy rice and dhal and Lauren and I wanted to try it. We ate like the typical Bangladeshi’s and used the silverware that God gave us: our hands. The Bengali people eat so gracefully with their hands while Lauren and I got it everywhere as we tipped our heads back and let the spicy food fall into our open mouths. After they saw that we enjoyed the food they wanted us to try the caregivers food. It was a spicy curry with potatoes and eggplant. Papri just sat there picking out the potatoes and laughing at Lauren because she didn’t like how spicy the food was. I’m beginning to get use to the spicy food that they make for the caregivers; it is actually enjoyable now. Tomorrow Shati is going to teach us how to make Dahl so that I can make it for my family when I get home.
When we went back outside the kids were bobbing for apples and playing various other games with the balloons that we had blown up. They got special treats such as this colorful rice pasta that was fried. I thought it was flavorless but the kids thought it was a real treat. They also received a piece of chocolate and many of them wanted to give me their candy even though they rarely get any. They are so selfless.
After the games were done the kids began to watch a cartoon in Bangla and Lauren, Bani, Heather, Kerri, and I went into town to pick up our Shari blouses that were being tailored and to pay for our internet. While in town we saw the cow and goat market that is getting ready for the holiday coming up next week. It is a Muslim holiday where they kill the old cows and give away the meat to the poor people. We won’t be going into town next week because all the stores will be closed and we also don’t want to see dead cows everywhere (I’m vegetarian for a reason). Thank goodness the villagers around us are Hindu so they don’t participate in the holiday.
Right now I feel too exhausted to type anymore. Just know…
that today was just a very good day.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Goodbye Bubble!
As I was turning the corner to head up the stairs to my room I heard a rather loud “Shhhh.” I saw that Jenny was around the corner with Sherry and I was already holding the hands of Joni, Riesa, and Sharmi. All of a sudden it became a game of sneaking up to my room even though it was their bedtime. We had to be quiet passed the teachers living quarters because they had opened doors. When we got all the way to the fourth floor I opened up my door and grabbed a piece of candy for each of them (but especially Jenny because it is her birthday). Then I told them that they all had to sneak back down and go to bed. Half of them had already begun to head back down the stairs as I knelt down and began to hug Joni. Before I knew it I was ambushed by all of the other girls and there were kisses all over my face! I just started giggling as I accepted the love and tried to kiss their cheeks as well.
Everyday God gives me the strength and energy to keep up with the kids and love them as much as they deserve to be loved. Today was no exception. When I first arrived here there were so many kids that it overwhelmed me and it frustrated me when my personal “bubble” was popped. Now I barely have a bubble. When Carly runs up to hug me her arms always wrap around and she grabs my backside. At night when I say goodnight to the kids I get kisses everywhere (all over my arms, legs, and face). My hands are always being held and sometimes I walk funny because Noah or Jamie have attached themselves to my leg. Tisha licked my foot the other day during class, which grossed me out but I understood that it was because she loves me “so so much” (which is in the letters that she writes me everyday before class). I cannot help but smile when I am receiving so much love... who needs a silly bubble anyway?
Everyday God gives me the strength and energy to keep up with the kids and love them as much as they deserve to be loved. Today was no exception. When I first arrived here there were so many kids that it overwhelmed me and it frustrated me when my personal “bubble” was popped. Now I barely have a bubble. When Carly runs up to hug me her arms always wrap around and she grabs my backside. At night when I say goodnight to the kids I get kisses everywhere (all over my arms, legs, and face). My hands are always being held and sometimes I walk funny because Noah or Jamie have attached themselves to my leg. Tisha licked my foot the other day during class, which grossed me out but I understood that it was because she loves me “so so much” (which is in the letters that she writes me everyday before class). I cannot help but smile when I am receiving so much love... who needs a silly bubble anyway?
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