I'm having a hard time writing this blog, maybe just because I know I have to, and there is a possibility of more people reading it...just a little bit intimidating. But I will try to remain as frank, open, and sincere as possible.
Arriving in Bangladesh has proved to be a very confusing experience. It feels oddly familiar (at least so far) even though I have never been here before. So many things about Bangladesh remind me of Honduras and its hard not to instantly want to compare the two, but it is something I need to make a conscious effort not to do.
We met with a man from the CIDA section of the Canadian High Commission (an Embassy but in a common wealth country) and we had the opportunity to talk to him about his experience working for CIDA, working in development and whatever else our hearts desired. He talked a little bit about the trend to switch from facilitating/funding numerous localized projects to fewer decentralized projects (which I also saw during my experience working with LWF). This ‘focus focus’ approach seems counter intuitive to me…by putting all your resources, funding, time and effort into one or two projects you are also putting a whole lot of faith in the fact that they will be successful and effective, and also putting a lot of faith in the counterparts you enter these projects into with. Would you put all your eggs in one basket???
I knew that finding clothes here would be a challenge, seeing that I am at least a foot if not more taller than the general population so when in Dhaka I didn’t get too frustrated in not finding much that fit. It also helped being warned in advance…and I’m coming to terms with the fact that I stick out EVERYWHERE. Last night after arriving in Rangpur and having a meeting with the RDRS staff, we headed to the market to try and get me hooked up.
The word overwhelming comes to mind. Bilan and I shared a rickshaw and we took off down the street…like literally bolted, passing everyone in our path. I clung to Bilan for dear life and may or may not have let out a small shriek or two when rounding corners. We got to the marked and first when to a shop to get a chawar camise (a specific long top that they wear in Bangladesh with a scarf and “Aladdin” pants) to get my size. They have no change rooms so I was taken to a beauty parlor (where men are not allowed) to try on my top. I went in and after a quick game of charades I explained I was not there to get my nails done or eye brows threaded, but simply try on my shirt and was directed to the corner where I proceeded to take of my shirt and replace it with the chawar camise well everyone stared at me.
Then we went to a shop with fabric to tailor. The men at the shop started pulling out spool (?) after spool, and then pre-made but not finished chawars….what felt like thousands of them. I finally settled on a few and we ran around the corner to the tailor, who spun me around, pushed my arms up and then down taking my measurements with a stern face and then getting angry when one of the half made chawars wouldn’t work because the neck was too small. Everything sounded angry because I could not pick up anything (apparently I don’t speak Bengali…who knew), and I was pretty much confused and overwhelmed the entire time, but now I am excited because when I return from Thakurgaon (our first site visit) I will have three awesome, beautiful, handmade outfits waiting for me
I am excited (even though that hardly seems like the right word) to begin our field visits and start interacting instead of just being a spectacle when we parade around together. I think once we get to Thakurgaon everything will begin to come together for me…Here’s hoping!
12 hrs into the future,
Delaney C.
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