A Peace of Home

Before leaving the U.S., Tita Sit (“tita” means aunt in Tagalog), who immigrated to the U.S. wearing a scapular herself, gave me one to protect me from danger. My mom had me blessed by our parish priest and made sure I had a rosary in my pocket, and my dad carefully wrapped two crucifixes in my luggage. God must be watching over me…on my first Saturday here the nurse introduced me to students who attend weekly Mass. In China and Taiwan, I made a concerted effort to attend Sunday Mass but I didn’t have a community to keep me accountable. Since coming to Bangladesh, I have become a regular Mass goer with two students from Vietnam and another student from Sri Lanka. I learned that the majority of Catholics who attend this church, Immaculate Conception, are from Sri Lanka. Whenever I set foot in church the conflicted pangs of peace and loneliness envelop me. I think “I am home, I am with two or three people who come in God’s name to worship Him,” and I think “I am so far, so far from home.” The hour I spend listening to the Gospel, praying, and remembering what kind of a person I want to be for God helps me get through the week. Whatever challenges that lie ahead of me, I know they are possible to tackle with the strength of God.

Fuchka, Fish, and Mangoes

Probably all you foodie friends out there are wondering where my pictures of food are. I was debating what to display-- fuchka (a typical street food), fish, or mangoes (fuchka won out; it’s pronounced “fooch-ka”). Today I woke up a little homesick and had a sore throat, so I decided to cook some familiar foods today. Breakfast- French Toast. Lunch- Oatmeal. Dinner- Fish adobo. Dinner was a project. First off, I had to walk 25 meters to the nearby market while avoiding rain puddles, swerving rickshaws, and impatient drivers. Then, I wasn’t sure whether the store was open because it seemed dark inside, but soon I remembered the frequent power outages here and discovered that it was, in fact, open. When I approached the fresh meat counter, I debated between chicken and fish. Since the fish eyes looked fresh, I decide on a 12-inch, 700 gram fish. When I got home, I knew I had to gut it somehow, but I was too scared to gut it fresh. I let the fish simmer a bit and then took it out of the pan, and holding a dull knife against its stomach I made a cut. To my surprise, red liquid squirted out; at least it was fresh. I added soy sauce, a whole head of garlic, and finally, a little vinegar (but no bay leaves). Fortunately, my roommate and her friend found the fish tasty. I know all you Filipinos out there would be proud that I shared our ethnic food today (especially you, LL)! After dinner, we ate some fresh mangoes and now I’m feeling MUCH better. Miss you all!

Empowering women through education

As many of you know, I’m teaching in the Access Academy, the pre-college prep program at the Asian University for Women. The classes I teach include a two-hour reading and writing (R&W) class (picture), and two, one-hour grammar sections. My students come from Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, Vietnam, Cambodia, Afghanistan, and Bangladesh. During the first week, I assigned a short story, the “American Odyssey,” to R&W and asked students to write a journal entry on their odyssey from their home country to AUW (and I thought my total air time was long!). One student traveled for two days on the train to get to Chittagong; and, for a few it was their first time riding a train.... I respect their courage and the sacrifices they made to come to AUW.
For week 2, I gave my students “The Men We Carry in our Minds” and we discussed differences between men and women, and between educated and uneducated persons. The first time I learned about Islam was during high school when I wrote a paper on women and Islam. Since then I learned a thing or two about Islamic traditions, culture, and practices, but this was perhaps the second or third time I came to learn first-hand, young women’s feelings about their positions and attitudes in life. I posed the question, “Would you rather be a man or woman?” A couple of students would choose to be men because of their status, privilege, and power in society. “We must be the change we wish to see,” said Gandhi. Asian University for Women students are changing and will change this world! Some of my students’ life goals include:
“My future goal is [I] want to be a social leader in my Tamil community. I’ve plans to take [a] documentary in the future.”
“My future goal is to become a rich, successful engineer and to help the government in my country [Afghanistan] to create new ideas for helping the poor.”

Tea and Rubber

Today, I taught my grammar students the word “mirage.” Wait, let me put in a comma after the word “today” in the previous sentence. [pause] I believe I am seeing an illusion right now—a nice, cold Poland Spring water dispenser. After two cups of coffee and turning on my lifesaver, the electric fan, I am still struggling to stay awake and hydrated in this hot and humid environment. I am slammed with work, but I would like to continue sharing my experiences with you.
Last Saturday, I took a two-hour bus trip with the Access Academy ESL students to the Baramasia tea estate in Chittagong, Bangladesh. As we traveled farther from the city, we entered the more serene countryside and the air quality also improved. At the Baramasia estate, a local guide gave us a quick tour of the rubber trees and told us how every morning, workers collect rubber drippings and pour them into pans to meld together. So if you become a local in Bangladesh and wonder where the soles of your rubber sneakers come from, you can take a quick tour of the Baramasia estate to find out!
We climbed a little further up the hill in order to see the tea plants flourishing on Chittagong’s hills. According to my academic director, it was perhaps the nicest place she’s seen thus far in Bangladesh. Additionally, we observed how Baramasia’s black tea was processed and refined. Entering the factory would be a tea-lover’s dream come true—the scent of fresh tea was raw and redolent. I get two daily “tea breaks” throughout my work week, so maybe some of my tea comes from this very tea plantation.

(I haven't quite figured out how to post more pictures...see fb for photo updates.)

Prom Night in Bangladesh

I have arrived safely in Chittagong, Bangladesh (after traveling for over 1.5 days)! On my way from the airport to the Asian University for Women (AUW) complex, my driver, Mr. Jane Alam, pointed out Chittagong’s oil and garment making businesses. The tropical scene of palm trees, traffic, and air reminded me of the Philippines, and somehow I felt right at home. As we turned into the AUW complex, some students were sitting and chatting on a wall outside…welcome to a women’s college Part II (Part I is undergrad at Bryn Mawr College). My apartment is surprisingly spacious—I have my own room and bathroom, a large dining area and sitting room, kitchen, balcony, and there is another vacant bedroom and empty room, so there is more than enough room for guests (just in case you feel like popping by). The apartment building is situated directly across the main university building that is rented for classrooms and meeting rooms.
Fatema, a recent U Mich grad and Bangladeshi native, invited me to dinner at one of the best Thai/Asian restaurants in town. We took a CNG to the supermarket and restaurant. My excitement suppressed lethargy, and Fatema and I talked enthusiastically about teaching ESL at AUW. When we returned, I heard the strangest sound…American pop music. [ASIDE: Most of the teachers are on break so the majority of people who are around are students and their form of recreation on breaks is dance parties.] Can you believe the students were having an 80’s themed “Prom Night” bash on the top floor of the university building? I walked into the dance room and found some 40-50 AUW students pressed against the edge of the stage, cheering on prom night queen contestants. Teachers sat in a small row of chairs and asked the contestants questions in English. I really can’t express how surreal everything felt. Fatema graciously introduced me to some of the university teachers. Meanwhile, students cheered teachers’ names individually, urging them to dance onstage. Was that a scarf a teacher was twirling around onstage? Did I mention how surreal this was? Most of the students were dressed in their traditional outfits, including the sari, salwar kameez (Bangladeshi outfit) and looked BEAUTIFUL; however, I was a little surprised to see some students in sequined tops, skirts, and Western style dresses. As the bass rhythm of the pop music grew louder, I walked away from the disco-lit dance party and into my quiet apartment. I thought to myself, “I’m in for a FUN year.”