How very Old Testament...

This weekend is going to be one when I'll be very glad to remain indoors, away from the world outside my building. This weekend is the Muslim celebration of Eid al-Adha, a celebration of sacrifice. In short, there will be an almighty 'call to prayer' at sometime early in the morning, during which men from each Muslim household will take their knives to the Mosque to have them blessed before returning home to wait for someone to come and help them slice the throat of an animal they have bought (often a bull, cow, goat or camel). The streets will fill with the cries of dying animals who seem to know what they have coming to them and then they fill be filled with blood.

Now now, before you start talking about how horrible that is, you need to understand WHY it takes place. Some believe that it is merely a symbol of Abrahams willingness to listen to God and sacrifice Issac upon that hill thousands of years before, where God honoured Abrahams faith and let him take the life of an animal instead. Nowadays, in Islamic tradition, sacrificing an animal during Eid is a form of atonement, not unlike the Old Testament traditions of making someone right with God, settling the debt (For the wages of sin is death)...

I think the saddest thing about living in a Muslim culture, where so much emphasis is placed on having to appease God is seeing the fruitlessness of animal sacrifice. The Bible clearly lays it out for us, stating that there WAS an old covenant, where the price for sin had to be paid through ongoing sacrifice of blood... But then the NEW covenant was made, signed in the pure and holy blood of Jesus.

This weekend is a reminder of what we (as Christians) have been saved from and the amazingly awesome gift that has been given.

Yes, I'm going to hide away this weekend. Some Muslims might say that it will be because I fell guilty, having not made a sacrifice to assure my salvation (which for them, needs to be renewed each year). I say it's because I have a considerably weaker stomach than I would like to admit, and the sight of animal hides, carcasses, entrails, blood, guts and gore would be enough to make my stomach turn and have me hurling for eternity. Thank you, Jesus, that I do not have to go through that, that you were MY sacrifice, dying for MY sins, setting ME free!

Blessings

Today something lovely happened, something which rarely takes place. I actually made it home with enough time to interact with my Ayah! No small feat as I usually don't walk in the door til well after she leaves.

Ratna is my Ayah and I have known her as my angel in disguise for almost a year and a half. A Christian ayah, employed by Grace International School, Ratna is hardworking, trustworthy and quite possibly the best cook I've come across in Bangladesh. An ayah/westener relationship can take a while to get 'right', especially for the westeners! Once you get over the whole 'this person works in my house and does everything I would be doing for myself in the west' part of the equation, it ends up being the sweetest deal living in a third world country can offer.

Today, I received a blessing - time to just sit and chat with Ratna (who has a good grasp of spoken English). I was able to discover more about here than the tid-bits I'd gleaned before. With three sons attending University and looking forward to full time work of their own, Ratna works very hard to pay the monthly fees associated with study in this country. Say what you will about South-East Asian education, the government universities know a thing or two! At government universities, there is a miniscule (to us) monthly fee, but the trade off is that the courses are longer (6 years instead of 4) even though they only offer the same qualifications as shorter private university courses (4 years maximum). The trade off? A public, Government University will set you back maybe a hundred taka a month (I think that's what Ratna was saying - bear in mind, current exchange rates are 84 Taka per 1 Australian Dollar) while a Private university will cost you somewhere around 6000 Taka a month. Woah!! Still cheaper than in Australia, but ALOT in terms of average wages in Bangladesh!

After talking about families, jobs, studying and all that sort of stuff, Ratna asked me if I like living in Bangladesh. My answer was rather confusing to her at first, but once I simplified myself, we were back on track: I love living in Bangladesh, but it is hard being away from my Family. Agreeing upon this point, conversation stayed on course as we talked about Bangladesh. End of the story? Ratna would like me to stay here forever! What a sweetheart!

Bangladesh is full of blessings, and I think lately, I have been too quick to jump in with negative remarks. Hence, a new season is beginning, one where I choose to see the beauty and the positive and make a point to share my uplifting and encouraging thoughts. Starting with coffee in the morning is a good start!

Normalcy

If you had asked me two and a half years ago what I would have considered 'normal', I would have told you that my life mirrored that fairly well... If you ask me right now, my answer would be the same...

I'm not yet sure how life in Bangladesh can be considered 'normal', or what processes are in place that stop surprising you so often, or perhaps blinds you to the harsh reality of things, but I consider my life to be completely normal. So much so, that existence in the 'real', outside, western world doesn't seem to easily come to mind. For many ex-pats who arrive in Dhaka, there is a clear time-frame of how long this place will be their home. Some fulfill their initial contracts and feel led to move on or move home. Some of us stay a little longer (and often wonder why!), not feeling that the time is right to leave this land that has captured our hearts.

The decision to remain in Dhaka, working at Grace for another year was the easiest decision I've ever made. Yes, I prayed and sought counsel, but God was quick to answer, firm with his response and unwavering in his guidance. Thank goodness I'm not the one in charge!

The conclusion of these ramblings? Normal is what you make of it (who wants to be a textbook definition of 'normal' anyway?!). At the end of the day, as long as God is in charge, I'm happy for my life to be as crazy as he lets it be! And the nut-jobs I meet along the way? They're a part of the blessings that come from (and perhaps from time to time cause) the crazy!

Til next time, xoxoxox

Communications... Perhaps I need some lessons...

Right now, it's around 9 PM in Sydney, Australia. As a twenty-something, communication and contact with my friends is one of the most important things in my world. The only problem is that at this current moment, my friends are scattered across several time zones. From Northern Ireland and Cameroon (where it's close to mid-day) to those adventurous enough to live in the 'mountain' time zone throughout America and Canada (where it's an ungodly 5 am or so), time zones are making me crazy! It reminds me of the newest 'Simple Plan' song 'jet lag':

What time is it where you are?
I miss you more than anything
Back at home you feel so far
Waitin' for the phone to ring
It's gettin’ lonely livin’ upside down
I don't even wanna be in this town
Tryin' to figure out the time zones makin' me crazy

You say good morning
When it's midnight
Going out of my head
Alone in this bed
I wake up to your sunset
It's drivin me mad
I miss you so bad
and my heart heart heart is so jetlagged

What time is it where you are?
5 more days and I'll be home
I keep your picture in my car
I hate the thought of you alone
I've been keepin' busy all the time
Just to try to keep you off my mind
Tryin' to figure out the time zones makin’ me crazy

You say good morning
When it's midnight
Going out of my head
Alone in this bed
I wake up to your sunset
And it's drivin' me mad
I miss you so bad
And my heart, heart heart is so Jetlagged
Heart heart heart is so Jetlagged
Heart heart heart is so Jetlagged

I miss you so bad [x5]
I wanna share your horizon
I miss you so bad
and see the same sunrising
I miss you so bad
Turn the hour hand back to when you were holding me.

You say good morning
When it's midnight
Going out of my head
Alone in this bed
I wake up to your sunset
And it's drivin' me mad
I miss when you say good morning
But it's midnight
Going out of my head
Alone in this bed
I wake up to your sunset
And it's drivin' me mad
I miss you so bad
And my heart heart heart is so Jetlagged
Heart heart heart is so Jetlagged
Heart heart heart is so Jetlagged
Is so Jetlagged
Is so Jetlagged

And so, my lament of the evening is this: I miss my friends and time-zones suck!

From the East to the West, travelled in an Easterly Direction...

When you've resided in a Third World country and then witness this sight within days of arriving in the West, it's a little shocking. This was the sight that greeted me on my first real venture from my parents place since landing in Sydney on Sunday night. My reaction was wide-eyed surprise and a general speechless disposition, which caught the attention of my mother. Seeing such affluence and wealth was kind of disgusting, I'm not going to lie. Having the perspective that has grown in me over the last two years, going from witnessing absolute poverty to being surrounded by everything of "The West", makes me re-think a lot of things I had previously disregarded about my future.

Being home for 6 weeks brings many blessings, especially through the company of my family. My mother is pretty amazing, and she plans lovely things for me to do with her whenever I'm home. Usually, that comes in the form of seeing a professional show or two. Last night, I got to see Hairspray at the Lyric Theatre in Sydney's Star City. WOAH! It was amazing! From the innovative set design and application to Trevor Ashley and Grant Piro absolutely losing it in fits of laughter in the middle of a song, all the way to Esther Hannaford making me almost wet myself, the show was of such a high callibre that I wish I could afford my own ticket so I could see it again! Jaz Flowers has such charisma and talent, I could have watched her perform the whole show herself and not get bored. The casting alone in this thing is stunning, Cle Morgan truly gave Queen Latifah a run for her money (and I flipping LOVE Queen Latifah!). Set in Baltimore, Marylands, USA, I was expecting accents so distracting and unworthy of the stage, but was very much surprised! Kudo's to whoever was the cast's dialect coach!




In other Sydney news, I have stayed low-key and unobtrusive thanks muchly to the rain and lack of a car. Today, however, the shopping mall was paid a visit from yours truly... Quite Frankly, I'm shocked!
Day in and day out, I commonly wear Shalwar Kameezes, traditional Bangladesh pant/dress combinations complete with an orna (kind of like a scarf, cause no one should see or be tempted by the fact I am a woman and have appropriate appendages at a short man's eye level...). Anyway, We wear baggy pants that remind us of PJ'http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifs and long tunics so that we're well and truly covered, especially KRISTA SCHROEDER! And now, upon perusing the shops, I'm discovering that these blasted Shalwars (aka clown pants) are in fashion! I could have just brought my daily attire home and been the most popular girl walking around! Goodness, how things have changed!!

Perhaps by the next time you hear from me, I'll be more balanced and used to being back in the West... Though probably not!

Big shout-outs to the Badeshi's in my life that I'm missing more than the convenience of Rickshaw rides! xox

StrategySixtyOne

Living in Dhaka, it's surprising how often your blinders kick into gear and you don't see the needs of those around you so much. Whether it's the fact you're busy or self involved or just too overwhelmed, you miss the visual reminders that you live and exist where you do - in a third world country...

Each day at Grace First School, we have assembly. This entails a teacher sharing a piece of scripture or bible story and leading the school in worship, through prayer and song. I'm on assembly tomorrow, and I am sharing a passage from Isaiah 61 and introducing the work and responsibility in response to it. Tomorrow is the concept of preaching to the poor. I'm sad to say that this has hit me like a tonne of bricks. Ever had one of those moments when you've been let in a secret you should have known about and understood a LONG time ago. This is one for me.

We like in one of the poorest ountries in the world, and I've been so worried about silly ittle things, I've well and truly missed the point. There's a reason I'm in Bangladesh and not Sydney. Yes, there's chances to minister to all sorts of people in Sydney. But I never would have grown, I would have remained the naive, untravelled, 'should have been a teacher in the 1800's' type of person, living day in and day out, not discovering the ways God wanted to change me. Please don't mis-understand me, I a in no way saying people who remain where they are are not shaped by God. I'm just saying that now, looking back, I'm not sure God could have changed me the way I needed to change while I remained in that setting.

Isaiah 61:1-2 tells us this:
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,


They do not know it yet, but Years 3, 4 and 5 of Grace International School are about to undertake StrategySixtyOne. They may only be 7-11 years old, but these kids are going to walk the talk. As for me, I am too. My blinders are off. I may struggle to percieve poverty, it may challenge and upset my comfort zone, but lets face it, Banlgadesh and comfort zone aren't exactly a peaches and cream example of cohesion.

More to come.
In the meantime, please pray. There are thousands yet to hear the joy of God's word in this country - in this city.

Week 11 of an 11 week term... Beware of the classroom!

Ask any teacher at Grace International School how they're feeling, and I'm guessing they'll say tired! At this stage in the term, it is easy to feel like nothing much is being accomplished, though in actual fact, we're still powering through the curriculum. Year 3 have been busy of late drawing on our desks (and wiping them clean afterwards, thank you, board markers!) for interactive maths lessons. When we're not being mathematical, we're filling our heads with all sorts of other things.
Pictograms for birthdays.

Our classroom

Proof we learn stuff!


Tomorrow we are having a fairytale day, all things Cinderella and Snow White (with some dragons and sword fights thrown in for good measure)

The life of a street urchin...

Life is a fragile thing... In a world which engourages us to be rough, tough and independantly awesome, it's hard to remember that we are slaves to the bodies in which we live and prone to weakness (surely not!). On the streets of Dhaka, it is just as likely that you will see someone who has aquired a weakness of some sort. For some, this comes in the form of a disability, malnourishment, sometimes even the result of an angry husband (I've seen enough acid burn victims to last me a lifetime). More and more often, though, I'm finding that I encounter people who are weak from having their spirit broken. I'm not sure just what it takes to break a person's spirit, whether it is continued extreme poverty, disease...

One thing that I haven't managed to overcome living in the Third World is being amongst broken children and being able to do very little for them. It seems that the spirit of a child is harder to break. They often have a great joy, even though living in poverty, possibly haven't eaten for 18 hours and slept in a heap off the side of the road... But every now and then, you'll see a child who's just given up.

The children aren't on the streets at the moment. No no no no no, Bangladesh wouldn't like to display such povery and its lack of equality while there's such an important thing like the Cricket World Cup going on... Just wait and see, as soon at the merriment is over, the street kids, beggars and unsupported essance of Bangladesh will resume their places, hoping that one day, their lot in life will change. In the meantime, while I can't say I don't enjoy seeing the streets a little less congested, I hope those who have been temporarily ousted will manage somehow til their return.

Holiday time?!

Type 'Holiday in Bangladesh' into Google image search and this is what you'll see:




Luckily for me, my holidays in this Great Land have not been thus... yet. Having planned a lovely time away at a Guesthouse in March, I was already beginning to feel the ore-rest that comes from knwoing you will end up sleeping outside of Dhaka for more than one night. Imagine my sadness this morning at discovering that the guesthouse was already completely booked for that time (I KNEW I shouldn't have told people it existed!). This assumed problem, however, provides a number of wonderful opportunities to explore new parts of the country untouched by the wonder that is KIM!

Options at this stage are Srimongol and Syhlet. Both are considerably north of Dhaka(despite how close they may look on a map) and require a long-distance bus or train journey. Srimongol is a tea resort and looks amazing!! Fingers crossed!!!

A day in the life...

My day today went something like this:

5:40 - First alarm goes off. Cue inner monalogue "Really? It's time to get up already?" SNOOZE
5:45 - Time to try and call Esther and make sure she's alive. If there's one person in the world less excited by mornings than I am, it's Esther. Granted, it only took one phone-call this morning, so it was bound to be a great day!
6:00 - Make sure the water heater has done it's job, jump into a delightfully hot shower, try not to get my hair wet as I can't be bothered reaching the extra metre to grab the shower cap.
6:21 - Phone call from Krista - not such a great day after all, she's sick :(
6:45 - On the way to work
6:58 - Step into my classroom and utter "Oh" - I'd forgotten the state in which I'd left my desk...
7:05 - Log onto the school system to make sure there's nothing in the inbox that will kick me later.
7:50 - Kidlets arrive and I begin to check homework, reading and make sure they are doing something constructive until school actually starts.
8:15 - The school bell rings and the day oficially begins. We head down to the meeting hall for assembly, where we are wonderfully informed and entertained by our Principal, my boss. He taught us about a story where Jesus healed a blind man, and the man then follwed Jesus.
8:50 - Year three make sure they have changed their reading books so that Miss Stevens wont turn into a dragon.
9:00 - MATHS - Learning how to read different scales, measures etc for Mass (weight).
10:00 - Morning Break - I am on duty, so I scamper down after the kids and moniter them in the playground. Having solved the worlds problems (brought to me by 7, 8, 9 and 10 year olds), Í'm now ready to head back into the classroom.
10:20 - WRITING. Having decided that I need to go back and assess Narrative writing, we do a revision lesson on the structure, form and language used in a Narrative. Cue Head-desk moment, whereby it becomes apparant that the kids have drained that information OUT of their brains. Eventually we get there and the kids scrape together their understanding. I break the news that they have a writing task tomorrow. We decide that todays lesson should be writing a story that I will mark and give feedback on tomorrow before their task...
11:30 - CIRCLE TIME. We discuss and demonstrate co-operation, teamwork etc and hilarity ensues.
12:05 - Lunch break. I take a few moments to actually sit and enjoy my few minutes off, followed by pondering life and other things, enjoying adult conversation in the staffroom.
12:35 - Quiet reading, during which time I have to remind the class about 7 MILLION times that lunch is over, this is READING, not DRAMA time...
12:55 - PE. Usually at this time I would have year 4 for music, but with Krista away, and a sub on her class, I decide to keep things simple and keep the two classes together for PE. Capture the flag... Epic-ness! 3 tumbles, one applied first aid, 38 kids smiling and running... Success!
2:00 - Round up my angels and head back to class. Clean the classroom, give announcements, hand out notes, Pray together...
2:15 - Bell rings, heard lovelies onto busses wave fondly as they drive away
2:30 - Stumble into classroom and sigh at the amount of marking, planning etc still to be done...
3:30 - Give up and try to go home early, end up going to one of two butchers in Dhaka (that I know of) to pick up some bits and pieces.
4:00 - Make it back to school in time for the staff bus home.
4:15 - collapse on my bed, ready to sleep through the night...





Days like this make it sound as though I'm just a normal teacher - A-ha! I have you fooled!!! I forgot to mention I saw goats, rickshaws, cows, bricks on heads and an assortment of non-normal-classroom-window activities from my room today!! Next time I update in this sort of way, I'll have to make sure it's on a crazy more-true-t-life-in-Bangladesh kind of way!!

Peace, friends! Happy Monday!

The downside of technology...

I love the internet. No, no, you don't really seem to get it... I LOVE the internet.

The internet is marvelous. It helps source materials for my lessons, allows me to download music, keeps me up-to-date with the news, shows me how to do stuff (aah google, you rock my world)... It also enables me to keep in contact with the outside world.

Bangladesh, in itself, is what you make of it. I am lucky to be surrounded by lovely people who for one reason or another think I'm cute enough, with a funny enough accent to keep around. Now, while this is true, good etc etc etc, it's not quite the same as being surrounded by people 'back home'.

I hate the internet. I loathe the internet. Honestly, you have no idea...

The internet reminds me that no matter how strong the wireless connection may be, there's no way I can actually BE with people 'back home'. The internet can show me photo's of memories 'back home', and I get to sit and whimper and feel homesick.

I LOVE the internet!!

Skype is an amazing invention which means I can talk to people without paying a cent. I can even see them move (depending on the strength of the connection) and watch as they pull funny faces at me...

I HATE the internet!!

Sometimes skype just isn't what you need. Some days you actually need a real hug from your mum. The internet just doesn't cut it!





On a side note, can you tell I'm home-sick right now??




Dear internet, sorry I'm hating on you right now! Our love affair will continue soon enough! Love Kim xox

Rants and Revues

Making the journey back to Bangladesh is a very special thing. Some may say I am underqualified in making such an assumption, but seeing as I've just made my fourth pilgramige back to 'the Desh' (in eighteen months... really?!), I feel I am allowed to have some sort of opinion on the matter. Travelling to Bangladesh requires only two flights from Australia (thank goodness, I don't think I'd have the patience for the 4, 5 or 6 plane journeys that some people have to make in order to get here). The first is to somewhere in Asia, usually either Kuala Lumpur, Singapore or Hong Kong. This overly normal flight is followed by one that is somewhat different... For starters, bags of peanuts aren't on the agenda... That aside, the second flight from afore-mentioned Asian airport to Bangladesh provides many things that could either make someone angry, or cause laughter-induced tears. This time, it was the laughter tears... See below!

For some strange reason, my flight from Singapore to Dhaka this time didn't seem to include a Bangla-speaking stewardess. Let the misunderstandings and lack of communication begin!!! Being an incredibly turbulent flight due to weather conditions, there were many announcements reguarding seatbelts and the advisement to stay in seats. Did that little woman in a sari care? Nope! She also didn't care that we were landing and she was wandering around... Or that as we're taxiing to our landing gate, she's already walked up (followed by a friend, mind you) to the plane door... Hahahahahaha!!!!

Of course, we're talking about travelling in Bangladesh, so there MUST be a blanket on a head, surely! Not only was there a seemingly unending sea of blankets covering from peoples toes to top hats, but there were three of four twenty-something bengali men who felt entitled to the ownership of the airline blankets. I can only assume that last part because they walked off the plane wrapped in said items. Having dealt with a lack of response to every request, the poor air hostess near us just turned to us and said something along the lines of 'I'm just going to let that one slide'. It seems, the line of sanity comes between giving unresponded-to instructions and allowing the wrongful aquisition of a few blankets...
I bet you want to fly to Bangladesh now, right?!