It occurred to me that I haven't posted very recently. Each time I sat down to do so, I couldn't think of anything remarkable enough on which to write. But, maybe there's a story buried in the fact that I've come to find this incredibly eccentric place almost....normal.
Every foreigner I've talked to has the same emotional roller coaster ride. We start out starry-eyed- amazed at how different and exciting Dhaka is. We're ready to take it on; to make a difference in a place where the opportunities to do so abound. Then a few weeks or months later, we dip into a deep resentment for the poverty, stench, class-ism, and noise that makes us want to take the first flight out- no matter where it's going. We hurl insults and curse the day we ever came to this urine-soaked hellhole. Gradually, or maybe suddenly, we enter the third stage: acceptance. We learn to look for the little things that show that crescent moon-sized bright spot in an otherwise gloomy city-things like quiet Friday mornings, evenings spent with friends, or a new corner of town we didn't know about. We explore the parts of the city we hadn't, we talk with people we previously passed by, and we come to accept Dhaka for what it is- and isn't.
So, yes, it is remarkable to come from the West and, only a few months later, find it un-newsworthy to trip over goats on the way to work, or nearly fall into an open sewer on the way home from the market. We just get used to a certain way of living- and we are luckier than most of the 13 million other residents of this city. We have a roof over our heads, food to eat, and luxuries like A/C and a guy who cleans our house twice a week. Putting that into perspective takes a while, and it is somewhat sad that I've only figured it out near the end of my time here. Home is certainly where the heart is, and I think all of us- no matter what stage we're currently in- will leave a little piece of ourselves in this dirty, dusty, and wonderful place.
Every foreigner I've talked to has the same emotional roller coaster ride. We start out starry-eyed- amazed at how different and exciting Dhaka is. We're ready to take it on; to make a difference in a place where the opportunities to do so abound. Then a few weeks or months later, we dip into a deep resentment for the poverty, stench, class-ism, and noise that makes us want to take the first flight out- no matter where it's going. We hurl insults and curse the day we ever came to this urine-soaked hellhole. Gradually, or maybe suddenly, we enter the third stage: acceptance. We learn to look for the little things that show that crescent moon-sized bright spot in an otherwise gloomy city-things like quiet Friday mornings, evenings spent with friends, or a new corner of town we didn't know about. We explore the parts of the city we hadn't, we talk with people we previously passed by, and we come to accept Dhaka for what it is- and isn't.
So, yes, it is remarkable to come from the West and, only a few months later, find it un-newsworthy to trip over goats on the way to work, or nearly fall into an open sewer on the way home from the market. We just get used to a certain way of living- and we are luckier than most of the 13 million other residents of this city. We have a roof over our heads, food to eat, and luxuries like A/C and a guy who cleans our house twice a week. Putting that into perspective takes a while, and it is somewhat sad that I've only figured it out near the end of my time here. Home is certainly where the heart is, and I think all of us- no matter what stage we're currently in- will leave a little piece of ourselves in this dirty, dusty, and wonderful place.
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