Today was hard, the beginning of week 10, in a 10 week term, need I say more?! After our weekly staff morning, I decided to hunker down and get a load of work done (which as usual was when my procrastination and feeling of weariness kicked in). You may ask, what is the cure for such an afternoon? Why, The Aussie club, of course!
Life always seems a little better after a swim and dinner at the Aussie club!! Spending time with friends out of the Dhaka context is always nice! Leaving the club to get home, however, is always a slight shock as one readjusts to the South East Asian culture. Like tonight, for example, when I got onto a rickshaw.
My rickshaw wallah (ie: the person who drives the rickshaw) was tiny. Upon the extensive conversation that could take place with his broken english and my 'kaup karap' (Bangla for 'very bad') Bangla, I learned the following things: His name was something my vocal chords and lack of Bangladeshi accent would never be able to pronounce, he was 13, he was working to support his mother, father and two younger brothers... And this was only his second day on the job. He was delighted to share bits and pieces of information (in just two day's work he had earned 502 taka!!) and seemed to like the fact that I lived near my friends (Krista and Esther who who on another rickshaw a little in front of his).
One thing I'll say for Bangladesh - It gives you perspective. Whether you like that perspective or not, it's there, just in front of your face. When I was 13 I was dealing with the fact that I only got between $10 and $20 pocket money. That's more than alot of people here earn in a month. When I was 13 I complained because I didn't want to eat brussel sprouts (actually, I still complain about that). There are people who would gladly eat brussels sprouts here... Out of the rubbish tip... When I was 13 I didn't like having homework. Here, the majority of the population wouldn't even be able to read homework if it was given to them. When I was 13 I wanted Billabong clothes. People here are happy to have a scrap of material to call their own. When I was 13 I complained about the comfort level of my pillow. People here sleep on the street, no bed, no pillow...
Aah, equality. I'm not so sure you exsist...
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