Lost in Translation

Sometimes I think Dhaka is Bangla-lite in a lot of ways. It's largely Westerized and a lot of people speak English. There's a Pizza Hut and a KFC for crying out loud. So, I decided to head to the villages to see the real Sonar Bangla (beautiful Bangladesh).

This week I am in Rajendrapur, a small village about two hours' drive from Dhaka. Life is slower here.  I'm staying at the Fish Hatchery Training Center, which is self-explanatory. The campus of this surprisingly nice ranch is covered with large, muddy ponds where fish eggs are harvested, placed into holding tanks, and then bred into more fish. BRAC sells the fish to rural villagers who then raise them to sell at market. So...basically I smell like fish 24/7. 

The air is clear, the water is less sewage-y, and I can see the sun. I even got to go for a couple of runs on the back country roads. I quickly learned these back country roads are covered with garment factories and the big trucks that move Gap's newest jeans to and from the city. There ended my fun-runs.

The training I'm here to observe focuses on disaster preparedness and BRAC's protocols for response. Since the trainees are field staff, the whole four-day session is in Bengali. Needless to say... I'm lost most of the time. However, it is has been helpful for practicing my language skills. I now know useful words such as "underground shelter", "Richter Scale", and "total destruction". 

I've made a group of Bangladeshi friends. Well...they tell me we're friends. I don't understand much of what they're saying but they follow me around and insist that I go wherever they go at all times. They made me sing the National Anthem like, three times already. I'm the only white person many of them have ever seen, and it's been awesome to learn their culture in its purest form, as well as their perceptions about America(ns). Apparently 1) Michael Jackson is God 2) Barack Obama is Muslim and 3) they learn ALL about Abraham Lincoln. go figure. They are also surprised that my pending wedding is a love marriage (as opposed to arranged) and even more surprised to find out that my parents' was as well. 

Here, the language barrier is much more apparent. Since I arrived, I have unwittingly done the following: 

1) offered to adopt five small children from a woman who has ten

2) agreed to go on a date with a 13 year old girl (her mother set it up)

3) used the ladies' bathroom 

4) told my friends that Catalina is from Brazil (they don't know where Colombia is...i figured that was close enough)

5) told them I was staying here for three years 

So... it's a learning process. There are also are about ten kids under the age of seven running around, and some of the boys were trying to teach me to play cricket. I only knew enough Bangla to understand, "stupid American" and "really bad batting"...and just when I thought I'd found my sport.

Tomorrow, these kind, genuine people and I will part ways- probably never to see each other again. I hope they know that they've made an impact on me that I won't soon forget. Their smiles and their laughs (mostly directed at me) have really immersed me in the Bangladesh of yesteryear.