khaoya daoya

I returned to my flat last night after a week of far too many hours spent in front of a computer screen and with my nose buried in textbooks. My hands were antsy, and my feet shuffled me directly into the kitchen where I was suddenly overcome with the single desire to cook my first curry meal in our two-burner kitchenette. I think that was the final step I needed to really feel at home here. I had cooked a stir-fry and some Thai omelettes this week, but I needed to know whether the years of cooking under my mother (and many of you have tasted her masterpieces) had prepared me for this moment of returning to Bangladesh on my own. This time she wasn't a phone call away. Also, I find myself constantly craving Bengali spices (rather than any other cuisine), since those are what I smell most of the day here. Fortunately, my lovely flatmate Fatema (a talented cook) already had the kitchen stocked with necessities: turmeric, cumin, chile powder, coriander, and garam masala. I took an inventory, then ran down our 9 floors and across the street to Khulshi mart to grab some yogurt, chicken, and fresh produce. Then back to the kitchen...
It's the one room in the house without a fan or much ventilation at all. So I was a rather grungy chef. And the counter space you see above is about the only usable surface in the kitchen. But we make do just fine, and I was happy with the final product.
Suzanne and Fatema (above) and I are eating like queens - I'm sure I'll be posting some of Fatema's meals too. We're feeling very fortunate to know that we'll be able to alternate cooking nights, so that cooking can continue to be a "therapeutic" activity, rather than a burdensome duty.

Intro to this Adventure - Part II: AUW, Access Academy, and my role

Having spent the past two weeks working long days at the AUW office － meeting the provost, preparing my syllabi, and presenting my courses to the new students at orientation － I should finally be able to give a description of this university and of my role here. Admittedly, it was all a little ambiguous when I arrived. The new provost is Dr. Mary Sansalone － an accomplished academic administrator from Cornell/Harvard/Washington University. Dr. Sansalone is in charge of redesigning the university’s curriculum, which has been an encouraging process and she has proven to be a good pick for the position. The reason for the urgency in whipping up a world-class curriculum a.s.a.p. is clear: this is what the students have been promised, and for their sake, we can’t let the programs fail. I have enjoyed learning the details of the undergraduate curriculum through time spent with the diversely experienced faculty here. Details of the new curriculum can be seen on the website: http://www.asian-university.org/academicPrograms/undergraduate.htm

With an understanding of the ultimate goal of the university － the vision of whom these young women will become after several years here in Chittagong － I have a clearer idea of how I will be preparing Access Academy students in my job as a teacher of reading and writing. The Access Academy is the intensive one year academic English prep program in which students are enrolled when they first arrive. The students are from several Asian countries, including Afganistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Burma, Cambodia, China, Vietnam, Nepal, Iran, and others. 

The desk below has been my home for the past couple of weeks. I am currently sharing it with a wonderful fellow teacher who has just come from teaching EFL in Prague for two years. We will eventually all have our own office space, and we have been promised our desks in time for the commencement of classes this Sunday. I look forward to that, especially since I have "office hours" scheduled for Monday.

In the meantime, our shared desks are piled high with texts and readers and notebooks as we finalize our syllabi and readings lists (or "finalize" as much as possible without knowing our students' exact skill levels). Again, I will be teaching two 2-hour courses of "Academic Reading & Writing," five days a week, Sunday through Thursday (Friday is the holy day in this Muslim context). I will be presented with quite a challenge in teaching the lowest two groups of students who need to be just as prepared as higher levels to matriculate in undergrad classes in a year. I am impatient to get into the classroom, but I'm sure that at the onslaught of lesson-planning and grading I will be missing the flexible schedule of this past week.

Apart from my duties as a teacher, I am also thrilled to have also stepped into the role of advisor to a club run by a fantastic group of 1st year undergraduate students. The group is called AUW Community Teachers - please explore the website if you have a chance: http://sites.google.com/site/buildyourschool/

The project in a nutshell is that our students from AUW are using their ever-improving English skills to empower others, by going out into slum communities to teach English to children, teens, and adults. Ashkar Digghi Uttar Par (currently the main teaching site) is a small alley that is home to dozens of families, mostly migrated from villages to find work in the city. Our connection to the community was forged through relationships with the cleaning staff at AUW. These women (whom I have now gotten to know and to practice Bangla with) asked a former AA teacher (who started AUW CT) whether anyone would be willing to teach their children, thereby giving the next generation better opportunities than their own unstable employment options. I'm impressed by the model of the club - to enter communities though relationships, rather than descend on the "slums" like self-proclaimed heroines to give out of our superiority. I know that the AA students/Community Teachers have already gained so much from their time with these eager and highly energetic students.

I visited the community at Ashkar Digghi yesterday, and absolutely loved it. I knew two things for sure, right off the bat: that the time I spend in Ashkar Digghi this year will by far be the best source for developing fluency in Bangla; and that visiting the families here will be a longed-for distraction and respite from the busy-ness and pace of academia.

Chittagong - first impressions

Even in the drive from the airport to my new apartment I could tell I’m going to like this city.

First sign: Rickshaws and CNGs (little 3-wheel motorized taxis fueled by “compressed natural gas”) rule the roads. There aren’t as many cars, trucks and buses, so rickshaws and CNGs seem much more abundant, and much safer to ride without the fear of being crushed. (On the other hand, putting your life in the hands of some of these drivers can still be scary - last night my CNG driver hit a man pretty hard in the arm while driving fast. I felt awful being involved in a hit and run.)

Second sign: It’s cooler here. The heat in Dhaka wasn’t bothering me too much anyway, but the consistent breeze here is glorious, especially at sunset on the rooftop, just above my flat.

Third sign: The city is smaller, so I actually stand a chance at getting to know it pretty well. Coming from a Maine town of about 1,000 people, I think I do better better in those types of cities that feel like big towns - like Boston, or DC… or Chicago one neighborhood at a time.

My flat:

I am blessed with a beautiful apartment. However, I’m pretty upset to have discovered that I’m living in a Jim Crow building. The sign out front - “TO LET - for Foreigners Only” - was the first hint. Yes it’s nice to have a flat with shiny floors and posh furniture, but in the end, the cockroaches are just as big as in any other building (I’ve killed several 2-inch long ones already). So why does the landlord insist on posting a sign at the elevator restricting all Bangladeshi workers from using it? A sign inside the elevator with building policies instructs us residents to actively enforce the rule barring our workers (maids and delivery persons) from taking the easy way up.

The men whom AUW contracted to deliver our water discovered yesterday that in order to get the heavy ten gallon jugs to us they would be required to climb the stairs instead of take the elevator… we live on the 9th floor! We told the men to leave the water inside with the guards downstairs and we’d go down to get them. We’ll have a lady come clean once a week, since it’s near impossible to keep up with the dust that the flat sucks in, and also it’s a valuable employment opportunity for women here. But again, nine floors up and nine floors down without a right to the elevator - it’s ridiculous. I’ve heard that AUW has had success in reforming some of these Jim Crow tendencies by tactfully putting pressure on authorities such as landlords…

Dhaka traffic

The traffic in Dhaka is pretty horrendous, but fortunately, my last few years driving in Chicago prepared me for the 30-minute trips that inevitably take 2 hours. On the other hand, those two hours in Chicago traffic were always accompanied by working air conditioners.

Now that Ramadan has begun, traffic is even worse, as people spend the afternoons shopping and preparing for nightly iftar (break-fast). Thankfully, the streets are dead quiet at 6 a.m., so we made it in 12 minutes from the Jennings to the airport for my morning flight to Chittagong…

Surprise Reunions

Fifteen years. It’s been over fifteen years since those glorious childhood days when my brothers and I ran down Iqbal road regularly to play with the Jon, Chris, and Suzie Adkins. We all attended primary school together CPEC (now called Grace). The Adkins are in both of our Dhaka home videos and in countless photos of my sleep-overs with Jasmine Gamble and Suzie. My family left Dhaka in 1995, my parents having been there for 15 years. The Adkins left several years later. But as I am discovering since arriving back in this country, Bangladesh does not abandon the hearts of the children born and raised here. So many have returned as adults, and it has been so fun to meet many of those. One of the most exciting cases of this homecoming happened this week when I heard from Beth Jennings that Suzie Adkins was going to pass through Dhaka during her two week internship with a rehabilitation center for disabled Bangladeshis. Suzie who I remember as an adorable six year old red-head is now in her senior year of college, applying to physical therapy schools, and hoping eventually to return to B’desh. I spent two days eagerly anticipating her visit, though I didn’t realize she had no clue about my presence in Dhaka. So when I walked into the Jennings after church Friday and exclaimed “Suzie Adkins!” upon seeing her in the living room, she was absolutely shocked to see me. What a fun reunion!

Up Before Adhan

Well, it seems that my internal clock is being a little stubborn in resetting itself from GMT-4 to GMT+6. Despite my attempts to keep to a Bangladeshi schedule of sleeping-waking-eating, I again found myself awake well before the 4 a.m. adhan (the Muslim call to prayer). After trying to force my eyes shut a little longer, so that they wouldn't threaten to close during lunch today (midnight back in Maine), I have finally given up and decided to write a bit.

In case you're wondering about my exact whereabouts in Bangladesh, I'm currently in the city of Dhaka, the capital in the center of the map above. On Saturday, I'll fly to my new home - Chittagong city in Chittagong province (seaport in the southeast). I look forward to being able to add photos when I'm finally settled and unpacked.

I've much to be grateful for in this first week spent in Dhaka. First - the Jennings family. Auntie Diane picked me up last Sunday in the midst of a very busy week in their lives. I hadn't given her or Uncle James any sort of schedule of what I'd be doing in Dhaka (and I actually had no plans at all) or how long I'd actually need to occupy a bed here. Yet I've been cared for with the utmost hospitality, and have had the adjustment to new things made so easy. Food is certainly no new adjustment - I'm happy as a clam to be back in a routine of moori (puffed rice) for breakfast and dal and roti for lunch. The other day I sat in the kitchen with Ati and practiced my Bangla by asking her to teach me to make her perfect thin chapati.

I've been able to plug away at studying my Bangla language book every morning, but I'm itching for opportunities to use it. The book that I'm using teaches writing first, so some of the early phrases that stuck in my mind were ones that only employed the few letters I'd learned when I was starting out. One of those phrases was, "amta shundor kintu tok" - "The mango is beautiful but sour." Why is it always the awkward, useless phrases that stick? Well, yesterday, I had the chance to go through the bazaar with Diane, and when she found out I hadn't had any mangoes yet, she insisted on getting some for me. At the first stall where we stopped, the mangoes were hard and unripe... indeed they were a beautiful green, but most likely quite sour. I chuckled inwardly as I found myself saying "amta tok, na?" I'm glad I chose not to comment on the aesthetic qualities of the fruit. That may have seemed strange.

One memory of my time in Dhaka that is cemented in my mind, and was such a privilege to experience (though much too brief), was my visit to CUP (Children's Uplift Program) run by Beth Jennings, Auntie Di's daughter. CUP meets needs of homeless children and mothers with programs that the world (and especially this country) desperately needs more of. The small dedicated team are working on the ground in the very literal sense. Young children, teenage girls, and homeless pregnant mothers are undoubtedly the most vulnerable population on the streets of Dhaka. Besides providing healthcare and education, CUP aims to protect these marginalized ones from the all-too common fate of sex trafficking and begging, and they do so by creating alternative employment for the mothers. Whether the women and children are just stopping by the CUP flat to rest and wash, or are busily engaged in stitching a beautiful quilt from old saris, they meet a community they can trust, a rare phenomenon on these streets. It may not be clean - extreme poverty rarely is - but it is hopeful and joyous to see transformation. Perhaps I could say it's sour, but beautiful.

I'm here!

I arrived safely in Bangladesh at 5am Sunday after a fairly smooth 30 hour trip from Maine to New York to Kuwait to Dhaka.

This will be a quick post, because I'm headed off to visit Children's Uplift Program (CUP) - a ministry to street women and children in Dhaka, run by Beth Jennings, daughter of James and Diane whom I've been so fortunate to stay with this first week in Bangladesh.

When my plane first lifted over the Casco Bay, leaving Maine, I wept for the Atlantic Ocean. Over a day later, when the wheels of Kuwait Airways flight 283 touched the pavement in Dhaka, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. Yes, I thought, this is where I want to be.

Time of Wonder

I depart for Bangladesh today. This time in Maine has flown! Sometime during my 27 hours of travel, I will write Part II of my lastpost, which will hopefully be a helpful description of the Asian University for Women and of my anticipated job duties at the AccessAcademy.

For now, though, Maine is in my heart and on my mind and I'll attempt to share a bit of the wonder of this past month spent at home. As I prepare to leave, I hear over and over the echoing of Robert McCloskey's words in my favorite children's book, Time of Wonder...

Take a farewell look at the waves and the sky.

Take a farewell sniff of the salty sea.

A little bit sad about the place you are leaving,

a little bit glad about the place you are going.

It is a time of quiet wonder- for wondering, for instance:

Where do hummingbirds go in a hurricane?

We have a hummingbird at our house in Woolwich, Maine. He graces us with his fluttering presence while we eat our sunset meals on the deck overlooking my mother's perfected gardens in

the woods.

We had some delicious meals this summer,

and I'm desperately hoping to have a very usable kitchen in Chittagong to carry on the culinary adventures.

This meal to the right was one I made for the family after being inspired by my roommate Elise's kitchen creation this past spring.

An Israeli couscous and arugula salad with lemon-garlic-rosemary grilled chicken:

Other highlights of my farewell month in Maine have included lots and lots of sailing on the Eleanore - my grandfather's award-winning design of a wooden Cape Cod catboat.

Jess, Elise, David, Meghan, and I enjoyed quite an adventurous bout in a strong northwest wind. We were thankful to have my brother David, our experienced and calm captain, at the tiller.

Then there was some hiking: Baxter State Park with David, and Camden hills with the whole family...