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.

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

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! 

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. 

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 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:

• 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.

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)