Day 6

Note: This day comes directly before Day 7 (Going for the Gold) that Cindy uploaded earlier. Sorry for the out-of-order posting!

Imagine an intense car chase from a Hollywood blockbuster. Now picture it’s real and lasts for 6½ hours. Oh, and you’re right in the middle of it. If you can get that image planted firmly in your mind, then you have successfully visualized our bus ride from Dhaka to the town of Kushtia. There is no direct road to Kushtia; instead, you have to take bumpy, crowded roads with no street signs and even less rules than Dhaka. A quick internet search will tell you that you can reach the city in under five hours. Oh, Google Maps, how you underestimate Bangladesh traffic! Cars, buses, rickshaws, motorcycles, children, adults, goats, cows, and everything else under the sun races along the roads in every direction, veering into opposite lanes, forcing smaller vehicles off roads, every one of them honking horns as if it caused the very force propelling them forward. And yet, there were only four terrified faces on the bus that morning (bonus points if you can guess who). The Bengali passengers, bafflingly unconcerned, practically yawned as trucks and buses rocketed towards us, missing us literally by inches. The Morgans were even worse – they were fast asleep, leaving us to face the terrors of the road alone! Our fears proved to be all for naught, however. How we managed it, we may never know, but not a single accident occurred the entire journey, and we eventually settled down to enjoy the ride as best we could. Only then could we better enjoy the changing landscape around us. Where Dhaka was noisy, congested, and dirty, the Bengali countryside more than made up for it. Rice fields that stretched out in radiant green, small villages, and the first blue sky since our arrival were most welcome sites. A small shower later in the day cooled the stuffy air of the bus.

Village in the Bengali countryside

Outside of Dhaka, the sun decided to shine for the first time

Finally, sweaty and stiff, we unloaded in the city of Kushtia. Kushtia, with around 50,000 people, is not a large city, but is an important one in the life of the Church. It is the headquarters for all of Kushtia Diocese, one of two in Bangladesh (Dhaka being the other) that extends far beyond the city limits to surrounding villages and communities, and to Rajshahi, our next destination. With tomorrow being another hartal – or nation-wide strike – we would be unable to spend the night in Kushtia and head for Rajshahi in the morning, as travel would be dangerous with the risk of riots and demonstrations. Even so, we were able to spend the next few hours in the company of some members of the Church of Bangladesh, including the head of Kushtia Diocese himself, Bishop Mankhan. As hot and grimy as we were, we were nevertheless presented with flowers and warm greetings by the Bishop and his staff. As we were waiting for lunch and tea, we were given a tour of a school run by the Church, where Christians, Muslims, and Hindus all study together. Plenty of stares and curious faces awaited us in the classrooms, but the students soon became more comfortable, asking us questions about America and giggling at our attempts to speak Bangla. Spirits were high as we gathered with the church staff for a delicious lunch of (you guessed it) rice and curry, and after a final look around, we set off for the train station where we would catch our 4:55 ride to Rajshahi…or so we thought.

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It was nearly three hours later when we finally boarded the “Rajshahi Express.” Public transportation, being significantly less reliable in Bangladesh, gave us the opportunity to squeeze a bit more out of our stay in Kushtia. As we made stops at a local café for something cool to drink, Bata shoe store to buy new sandals for David, and around the street vendors and markets of the city, another crowd began to assemble to catch a glimpse of the Americans, an even rarer sight here than in Dhaka. People young and old approached us. A zoology major at a local university, a geologist, and even a journalist who took our picture and promised a front page newspaper story were among the varied crowd who spoke to us. The train finally chugged into the station, giving us would-be passengers a mere minute or two to board before chugging right back out again. We had so little time that our luggage had to be literally shoved in through the windows, landing in the laps of what I’m sure were startled passengers. We were hardly on when we felt the train began to move, and one of the church staff who helped us carry a bag on board was still on board. Making a mad dash for the exit, our friend had just enough time to leap from the now quickly moving train and collapse back in the station as we barrelled off. Fortuneately, we have since learned that he was unharmed by his fall, and we owe him a big “dhonnobad,” or thank you! It took us another minute or two to find the confused passengers holding our belongings, locate our seats, and kick out the people who had taken them. Then we sat back, eager to get some rest on the three hour ride to Rajshahi…or so we thought.

Cooking outside in Kushtia

The town of Kushtia was cleaner and more relaxed then the bustle of Dhaka

It was smooth sailing for the first half hour. The darkening countryside was as beautiful as ever, and the air was clean, something we had never experienced in Dhaka. As night replaced day, the fields and forests were silent and peaceful, the darkness interrupted only by the dancing of fireflies. Though uncomfortably hot on the train, the breeze through the open windows was enough to keep us cool. David and I both tried a local sweet that tastes exactly like hard cotton candy, and we all chatted in good humor with some of the passengers. Some were traveling on business, some to visit family. Some were beggars, asking for money as they moved down the ailes. One man, who was missing both of his eyes, was forced to feel his way, keeping one hand outstretched for us to place a few taka notes in as he passed by. As usual, however, the spectacle of travel weary Americans proved too much for people’s curiosity to handle. Before the first hour was up,  a swarm of onlookers had smothered us, and so began one of the very few times we ever felt uncomfortable or invaded in regards to the people. The questions, friendly at first, took on a darker tone. I was questioned about American practices that Muslims disagreed with. One small boy who couldn’t have been more than five or six asked me bluntly if I was happy about Osama bin Laden death, making the surrounding onlookers go silent as they waited for my response. It was, to say the least, an undesirable position to be in, and I responded to the boy as unoffensively as I could, saying that as a Christian I didn’t want anybody to die, but that I was glad he could no longer hurt others. That seemed to satisfy the crowd well enough, and the conversation moved on other topics, much of which was confusing due to the language barrier between us. Even when pretending to sleep, the crowd still lingered, making a hot cramped ride even hotter and more cramped. Finally, the train pulled into the station at Rajshahi, where we were only too glad to grab our belongings and disembark. We soon met with employees of Mission Hospital, the Morgans’ former home and ours for the next few days. After a short ride through the dark city, we arrived at the hospital, where we were shown up to our rooms, which, though hot and without air conditioning, were inviting after our long day’s journey. Before we could sleep, however, we were asked to join the hospital staff for a late dinner at nearly midnight. Up since 5 in the morning, we had spent a long day traveling, possibly the most tiring of our two weeks there. Sitting down to eat rice and curry again was not high on any of our lists, but that is exactly what we did. And after thanking God for our safe journey to Rajshahi, we ate what we could, staggered upstairs, and collapsed into a deep sleep.

Lesson Learned Today: When attempting to order a Coke from a vendor, do not use the phrase “Coca-Cola,” as you will be handed a banana instead.

More Sights of Our Day:

Day 7: Cindy — “Going for the gold”

Wednesday, July 6^th

by Cindy Morgan

 

We’re here!  The pilgrims are now with us on our ‘home turf,’ Christian Mission Hospital (CMH), where we lived from 1993-2006 and still work as advisors.  It’s the place our children knew as “home” in Bangladesh.

Nursing students welcome the group with music!

We began the day praising God along side CMH staff and nursing students in the hospital chapel.  After a breakfast of chapatis (traditional unleavened flatbread), potato baji (thin strips of potato sautéed with onions and turmeric) and fried eggs, we joined the staff doctors to round on the patients on the wards.  In the children’s ward, the pilgrims put crazy bands on the wrists of all the children and Chris and David became instant friends with young Lucas and Rasel, Santali boys suffering from severe anemia.  Rasel’s liver is markedly enlarged and his spleen stretches well below his navel—investigations are pending.

 

After tea in the hospital library with Martyr Chowdhury, the CMH Acting Director, Dr. Christopher Baroi, the Chairman of the Board of Trustees, and doctors Lokkhi and Moinul, we headed next door to see the Elizabeth Conan Memorial Nursing Institute which offers the government-accredited three-year senior nurses’ training course to 50 young men and women from across the country.

 

The students hosted a lovely welcoming ceremony for the pilgrims, complete with Bengali songs sung to harmonium, tobla (local double drums), cymbals and tambourine.  Female students dressed in elaborate saris, adorned with flowers, bangles and ankle bells danced several dances in welcome.  The students also showered the pilgrims with flowers and gifts.  Madeline stood up on behalf of the group to express their gratitude and to extend greetings on behalf of First Presbyterian Church and PC(USA).  We then were treated to a chicken curry feast in the female students’ hostel.

 

Table laid out by the nursing students to welcome the American guests

At three in the afternoon, David and Chris joined Drs. Sarkar and Baroi for an inguinal hernia repair operation.  Though the operating room is quite basic, the surgery was quick and successful.

 

Dr. Christopher, one of the doctors at Mission Hospital

At four, we gathered to encounter the amazing national fruit:  Jackfruit (in Bengali—Kathal).  Over two feet long and a foot wide, the massive thorny fruit, yielded its golden locules to David’s expert wielding of a boti, a curved culinary blade.  He then pried the “belly” apart as the other pilgrims oiled their hands and reached in to assist in the delivery of 200+ golden locules, each encasing a single seed, akin to a Brazil nut.  With its distinctive scent, flavor and slimy texture, along with its unusual way of growing not only from branches but from the very trunk of the tree as well, jackfruit in the favorite fruit of most Bangladeshis.  David took the gold by downing almost twenty pieces of it while the rest of us stopped after 1-5 J!

David probably could've eaten that entire bowl...

While exploring the backyard of what once was our home, Anna, Madeline and I were invited to go upstairs and visit the home of Jesmine, the CMH accounts assistant, who lives in what were once our family’s bedrooms.  On the back of one of the doors is a picture of our three children, left from when we moved 5 years ago!  On our way out, we were invited into the downstairs home of Rintu (the CMH driver) and Sukhi and their two sons, Obhi and Jeet, in what were our living and dining rooms, kitchen and school during our thirteen years in Rajshahi.

 

We’re still working out sleeping and bathing arrangements for the pilgrims—to provide an option to bucket-bathing, a shower head is being installed today, mattresses needed a little more beating, and one needed to be  covered with extra sheets to tame whatever it is that is causing skin reactions.  And, of course, there are the mosquitoes.  By the time the trip is over, our pilgrims will be expert mosquito net tuckers!

Don't leave your mosquito net open for too long...

 

The pilgrims are handling so well all the challenges that Bangladesh has to offer!  We are so happy to have them here to share in our life and ministry with us!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prayer for Bangladesh

Each week Les and Cindy Morgan bring us specific prayer concerns from Bangladesh.  These are posted on the church’s website at Prayer for Bangladesh.  This week the prayer was written by two of the First Presbyterian pilgrims being hosted in Bangladesh.

11 July 2011

Dear heavenly Father, we come to you now in prayer for your children in Bangladesh.  Be their guide through the struggles in their lives, and light the path, showing them the way to your kingdom.  We pray now especially for Asma Khatun, an elderly woman from a very poor family.  She received a crippling foot injury in a rickshaw accident near her home in the Tanore area of Rajshahi District.  With such little income, every day spent in the hospital, though necessary for her recovery, is a burden on her and her family.  We ask that you be with the doctors, nurses, and medical staff as they care for your child, helping them to show compassion and love.  Be with Asma, keep her and hold her in your healing grace, that she may have a full and quick recovery and find the peace you desire for all your children.  Amen.

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Prepared by Chris Webb and David Henderson
First Presbyterian Church, Shreveport, Louisiana
Mission Pilgrims to Bangladesh

Day 5: Anna

Greetings from Bangladesh on July 4^th, American Independence day!!  We’re trying to give Chris a little break so I’m (Anna) sharing with you about today’s experiences.

Girls learning at a class near St. Thomas

We started this Independence Day with a wonderful American breakfast of red, white and blue scones in the shpe of a flag!! Such a special treat!  After completing Lectio Divina we departed for St. Thomas Cathedral (by rickshaw, of course).  Once there, we visited the Church of Bangladesh Mission Schools.  Precious children in bright blue uniforms, eager to sing songs & do the ‘hokey pokey’ with us!  Most of the students are Muslim w/ a few Hindus and Christians mixed in.  All of them have beautiful smiles and bright shining eyes!

Next we visited the Church of Bangladesh Ekota Office to learn about some of their mission programs. Some of these include a sweing center, program for homeless street children, women’s savings groups, and a program providing legal help for women.  After getting an overview by their director, we were able to visit several of their programs.  First, we visited the Rainbow Sewing Center: a school to teach women how to embroider and sew.  The course usually lasts 3-6 months, and when many of the women complete the course, this program helps a woman to buy her own sewing machine so she can start earning her own money.  The center sells many items (children’s clothes, table cloths, three-pieces (traditional Bengali outfit) and sari’s).  Any money received from the sale of items goes back into the program.

Next, we visited Jokhon Tokhon, a program for street children, primarily boys, ages 9-15.  “Jokhon Tokhon” means ‘When, Then.’  “When” they need help, “Then” the program is there to help.  They teach lessons, provide food, and serve as a bank to hold any money the boys make.  They also provide a place to sleep at night.  Although there are a few boys who are consistently involved w/ the program, most of them are pretty transient.  We heard several of their stories which often included being kicked out of their own home after one parent left and the other parent took another spouse and did not want the child around. We also heard a few stories of children who slept at night with a parent who was also homeless. Quite of few of the boys would go each night to a building they could sleep in, that at least provided shelter from the elements.  Many of these boys did not have shirts on and one boy had stitches on his head where he had recently been hit by a car.  Although most of the boys had sadness in their eyes, they had beautiful smiles and readily shared them with us.  I particularly remember a sweet boy named “Shojon” which means ‘good person’.  After I put a silly band around his wrist, he immediately took one out of my lap and put it on MY wrist.  His actions and his smile melted my heart. 

After leavning the Jokhon Tokhon program we met with two women who are receiving help from the legal program offered at Ekota.  These women shared the devestating stories of their lives.  One women married a man and her family paid a $25,000 Taka dowery to him.  After several months, her husband stole the money and left.  She later found him living with his first wife (which this women did not know he had).  After confronting the husband to give the money back (the only money she and her family had) he sent 5 people (his first wife, and 4 other people) to beat her up.  She ended up in the hsopital for 3 days.  My heart broke for the woman that we talked to and the sense of helplessess and hopelessness she expressed about her situation.  She is currently living with a friend, and is afraid to go out of the house b/c the husband has threatened to kill her.

Our group then split up. Chris, David, and Cindy went to visit a savings group for teenage girls. Madeline, Les and I went to visit a more common savings group made up of adult women of various ages.  A savings group is made up of women who put their own money into a savings ‘pot.’  All the money is pooled together and either saved or it can be borrowed by any of the women.  One women had been a member of the group for 11 years and had saved about $9,000 Taka (about $121 dollars). This is a pretty considerable amount!  She currently had a loan out which she was using to help her husbands business of selling bottled water.  (Many of these women were using loans to help their husbands business).  One women used a loan to buy a sweing machine to start her own business.  It was amazing to hear these women’s stories, and it was amazing to see 11 women, plus 4 children all sitting on one bed!  They were so thankful we had come to visit and hear their stories.  At the end of our time together, they asked us a few questions, and wanted to know if we would come back to visit.  It was a honor to be hosted by them.

We returned home that evening and had a few moments of rest. Madeline and I went shopping all by ourselves, and were quite proud that we overcame the language barrier to make a few purchases!  We ended the evening with dinner out at a place called Tandoori Nights.  Delicious Naan and kebabs!!

Dinner at Tandoori Nights. Yum!

Day 4: Madeline

Note from Chris: Nomoskar! You may have noticed that the blog has been severely lacking in updates from the Bangladeshi front. With so little free time, and with such a frustrating Internet situation, it has been extremely difficult to come up with any kind of schedule to write and upload. Fortunately, everybody has agreed write a little something about our experiences so we won’t be quite so far behind. Hope everybody is enjoying it so far — we are all well and loving every minute off our time here!

Sorry we have not been as attentive to our blog and though we are committed we have been quite busy, when we are not drinking tea.Today was the first hartal day we experienced. Either they are unorganized or maybe just a bit lazy as it only lasted half a day. We took a car out to Mirpur, a neighborhood in the north of Dhaka, so we would not get stuck in an auto while the hartal was in effect. More on that when we get home. We left around 6:30 and we got to Mirpur fairly quickly as traffic had not had time to build. We went straight to St. Andrews Cathedral. It didn’t take long for the guys to notice the musical instruments.

We were able to meet Rev Martin, pastor of St Andrew’s and it was easy to see he was enjoying us as well. He has lots of fun and artistic plans for his youth program, and avid fan of liturgical dance (picture below).

We visited the home of Rajia, aka the tea lady. We were graciously greeted by she and her family, where we were quickly whisked into her home so as not to draw too much attention. She had us sit on her beds (boys on one side, girls on the other),in her home where there were fans carefully directed over head. They were running from electricity being pirated from her neighbor. She was so attentive to our needs offering COLD bottled  water, a rarity, 7-up and many types of cookies and crackers. While this was all taking place were had opportunity met her many friends along with their children and learn a bit of their stories.

Rajia’s first husband with whom she had her 2 sons, left her after taking all what remained of her dowery. Her second husband with with whom she had her 2 daughters decided to leave as well. . .so Rajia and her son, who recently has been employed at the garment factory  is left to provide for her family. Rajia had been doing quite well with her tea stand, being across from the garment factory, problem was, it was on public property,  so when she came home one day from gathering groceries she saw the note posted that the dozers would be there to demolish  her stand the following day.  She is now on a back street, again on public land, only catching a fraction of her previous business.

Many of Rajia’s friends tried to speak with us and as they attempted Cindy translated . One child said her mother had died when she was a baby so her father remarried and when she goes to see her Dad her step mother “shows her no love”. So she lives with her grandmother and will not stand a chance with no dowery ,so tragically sad. Another friend who has had a tumor removed and the 3 surgeries have left her some what deformed giving her a stoke like appearence despite that she remained upbeat. She said her husband says all he sees is his love for her when he looks at her and her 4 son are so good to her.  She is asking Anna and I  if will come back to Bangladesh? Will we come back to see her?  The last question hits you right between the eyes… Will we remember her? It was a good thing Anna was there cause I couldn’t speak. Anna said Yes that we would remember her in our hearts.

Rajia, the "tea lady".

Rajia’s son Sadam took us for a tour to the garment factory where he does screen printing, It was the 3rd floor we stopped on first we got to see them applying each single layer to the t shirts. It did not appear what i was anticipating at all, it was pretty clean and they were making money. I believe they work 6-4 and the only girl I saw that looked young was probably 15 and even we know people in the states that have summer jobs. We ducked in to watch how it is all set up on the computer and then how the job comes together. we toured the 4th floor as well and a demonstration on how the colors are blended. We enjoyed our tour and honestly I believe the manager liked the idea that we as Americans took an interest in his shop.

We took rickshaws back to the Church of Bangladesh (COB) head office and began a festival of meetings. Many of these peoples titles and jobs will be apparent and how they are connected to our tours and clinics as you will read in following Blogs:  Stephen Baroi-COB Synod Administrator, Janet Sarker- COB Education Department, Education for girls on human trafficing and much more. Manas Das-Director  COB social development program. I gathered this was Education for children who have very little means. Paul Das and Albert Samadder, Christian ministry for children and youth. We took a break for lunch with all the people we had met with thus far. Our last meeting was with Dr. Rajasingham. He is from Sri Lanka. His idea is to provide sort of a spiritual anchor  for the recently trained christian nurses so that they could remain strong in their values. He knew that there would be a struggle for the nurse between the for profit hospitals and Doctors that were only concerned with making money. I was sad that there was a need for that, but realistically, I can see why that might be a struggle. Many of these nurses would not be making as much in the government hospitals. They are in desperate need of  decent health care and if they have as many depending on their income, the choice is sadly obvious.

Children working in a garment factory.

On our bus ride home that evening, we got to experience more crowded Dhaka streets and a Hindu parade!

- Madeline

Day 3

Day 3: The Buriganga, or Old Ganges, which runs straight through the heart of Dhaka, is one of the most astounding sites in the city. It is also one of the filthiest and most generally disgusting bodies of water on Earth, and our first stop of the day. It’s murky, black water betrays its polluted state, something we got to see plenty of as we crossed by paddle boat. As Les so eloquently put it, “There ain’t no fish in there. They’re all dead.”

The Buriganga

On the other side, we were forced to balance on narrow wooden planks to reach the other side, taking extra care not to plunge into what I have affectionately named “Dhaka stew”. Upon our landing on the other side, we immediately began to notice a change in the attitude of the people we met. Whereas we had received plenty of stares in Wari, in almost every encounter this side of the river, in the neighborhood of Kejurbag, people were eager to meet and get to know us. It was also the first day that we began to pick up a little Bangla to speak one on one with the locals. It never ceases to amaze how far or five simple phrases can take you. Tomar nam ki (What is your name?), America theke ascchi (I come from America), and the ever useful Dhonnabat (thank you) are just a few indispensable phrases one should never leave home without. Our destination in Kejurbag was a local tutoring program to help keep children in school. We were greeted warmly by the staff and students, three of which performed an Indian dance for us, and with whom we became fast friends with through our mutual love of the classic American ballad, “Barbie Girl”. We were served rice and curry, letting out great belches to show our appreciation for the meal, as is the custom.

Bengali children in Kejurbag

The real reason for the visit, to participate in a clinic with Les and Cindy, was put on hold as we split into groups and went out into Kejurbag to see local school programs. Les, Madeline, and I visited a tiny Muslim school, where all the children sat on the floor of a home while the teacher stood up front and taught language, religion, and other general knowledge topics. They were delighted to see us, and we were introduced to the children, some of which prepared recited rhymes and poems for us, most likely in thanks for interrupting their class. As we gathered our things to leave, were were presented with hard boiled eggs and wide smiles, with plenty of wishes to come again. In all honesty, if we were to repay a visit to everyone who asked us sincerely to please come again, we would have to do the whole trip all over again. Back at the school, we prepared for the clinic. Madeline and Anna took the height, weight, and other data while David and I helped Les and Cindy with the physical examinations. All of the children we saw were underweight, some significantly below the average for their age. After cleaning up and watching two Bengali kids attempt to break dance, we paid a house visit to the home of, a friend of the Morgans. In their one room home of five, the oldest son is mentally challenged and must be under constant care. The reason for our visit, however, was for the daughter, who was bed ridden with a high fever and flu-like symptoms. After a short meeting with the family, we left by rickshaw to personally pick up and deliver the medicine she needed. Drug stores in Bangladesh are cluttered, unorganized, and open like any street vendor. Anyone can buy anything, which leads to a high potential for abuse. Moving on to our next stop, we visited a social development program near Nayeem Colony, one of the poorest slums in the city, if not the world. We first stopped for tea and conversation with Ruth, the head of the program, before moving into the slums ourselves. If a cast iron skillet had been swung against our heads, I doubt we would have felt it more strongly than we did upon entering Nayeem Colony. If the people of Dhaka we had seen up to this point had been poor, then they were kings by comparison. Over forty families are crowded together in tiny rooms of poorly constructed houses. Trash and mud flowed in the narrow path between the shelters. Children, some barefoot with no way to afford shoes, run through it. Between them are only ten burners, three lavatories, and a well or two of filthy water , which is only in service a few hours everyday. Of the things we have seen here in Bangladesh, this place has been among the most disturbing and difficult. And yet, in the midst of overwhelming poverty and suffering, we discovered the true depths of hospitality. Within seconds of arriving, we were offered food and drink, to see homes and meet families. In one area where flooding had covered lanes such that people had to wade through waist high water to get from one home to another, benches were carried to us and we were asked to sit in order that our own shoes would not get muddy. It is truly breathtaking, humbling, and frankly, embarrassing to be treated in such an undeserving fashion, and it is a memory that will stay with us for the rest of our lives.

We visited last with Salma, a young teenage girl and the subject of the “Prayer for Bangladesh,” who was receiving a checkup for lice and a massive fungal infection that extends from her neckline and down her back. Shortly after, we left Nayeem Colony and headed back toward the Buriganga to the main bridge to find a set of rickshaws to bring us home to Wari. By then it was already 6:00 PM, and we had been up since around 5:00 in the morning. As we made our way to the bridge, a procession followed us, growing larger and larger as we continued through the streets. There was a crowd of dozens surrounding us by the time we made it. Men, women, and children, some wanting to take pictures if they could, most wanting to meet us, all wanting to get a good look at the foreigners that so rarely pass their way. It began to become a little uncomfortable for the first time, being unable to understand most of the language and feeling smothered by curious people all wanting to know where we came from and what we were doing there. The answer to the last question was, and still is, fresh on our minds. We are here to be welcomed and hosted by the children of God in Bangladesh, and for the first time of many times to come, we truly felt that was what we experienced that day.

Next time…

“Day 4: In which we travel to Mirpur in the middle of a nation-wide strike, attend (a lot) of meetings, visit the head office of the church, and form a traveling musical troupe.”

A Prayer for Bangladesh

Each week Les and Cindy Morgan bring us specific prayer concerns from Bangladesh.  These are posted at on website at Prayer for Bangladesh.  This week the prayer was written by two of the First Presbyterian pilgrims being hosted in Bangladesh.

4 July 2011

Gracious God of all, we pray for Salma, a sweet, shy, 15-year-old girl living near the Buriganga River in Dhaka, Bangladesh.  She is too afraid and embarrassed to raise her head because of severe head lice and a fungal infection on her neck and back.  She works in a garment factory seven days a week, earning $20 per month.  Salma lives with five other family members in one room, in a slum that frequently floods with water because of the rain.  It is painful to see how uncomfortably self-conscious she is. She cannot even smile.  Lord, we pray she will come to know what a special and beautiful child of God she is.  Amen.

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Prepared by Anna Gnann and Madeline Haynie

First Presbyterian Church, Shreveport, Louisiana

Mission Pilgrims to Bangladesh

Diverse and Enriching Experiences

As you have read from Chris’ reports, the FPC mission pilgrims have been busy in their first week in Bangladesh. We have posted their schedule from when they arrived on June 30 through yesterday July 5th.  They have had a very diverse set of experiences from visiting mission and seminary partners, to experiencing worship in new ways, to dinners and teas and daily (or more) time spent in spiritual disciplines.

First Presbyterian Church, Shreveport  Bangladesh Mission Pilgrimage

June 30 – July 5, 2011  SCHEDULE

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Context and Texture

In his posts and texts, Chris has provided us with a mesmerizing view of the people and places that our FPC pilgrims Chris, Anna, Madeline and David have experienced.  Seeing the world of Bangladesh through their eyes and hearts has given us a glimpse of what their journey has been like.  In so many ways it is hard for us to comprehend and imagine.

For example, Chris mentioned in his texts that they had experienced a “hartal” or a political strike as they were traveling. The Morgans had told the pilgrims ahead of time that hartals happen with some frequency and are generally not threatening, although they can disrupt travel. Hartals are primarily political clashes-with the parties not in power trying to influence those in power.

Sarah Cooper Searight did a little digging for us this morning, so we can better understand what a hartal is.

Hartal is a term in many Indian languages for strike action, used often during the Indian Independence Movement. It is mass protest often involving a shutdown of workplaces, offices, shops, courts of law as a form of civil disobedience. In addition to being a general strike, it involves the voluntary closing of schools and places of business. It is a mode of appealing to the sympathies of a government to change an unpopular or unacceptable decision.  In general these are non-violent strikes, and if there is violence, it is usually limited to those involved in the strikes themselves. For our FPC pilgrims it means that they need to be flexible in their schedule as there are disruptions of transportation services and commerce.

Here is a link from the BBC World that talks about the recent hartal: July 3 Bangladesh Hartal

We continue keep Chris, David, Madeline, Anna, Les and Cindy in our prayers.  Today in particular we lift up the Bangladeshi people as they deal with the disruptions in their life resulting from the most recent hartals.  We pray for patience to bear the disruptions with grace and good humor.  We pray for wisdom to prevent escalation of the strikes.  We pray for a spirit of peace to reign throughout.

Day 2

Friday, July 1st.

Today, being the Muslim Sabbath and general rest day here in Dhaka, it seemed a perfect opportunity for our first visit to St. Thomas Cathedral, where we arrived just in time for the start of their worship service, which is also held on Friday. Rev. Shourabh Pholia led the service, while the six of us sat barefoot on the floor, side-by-side with the small crowd of Bengalis who identify themselves as Christian. While we understood next to nothing of the Bangla, Rev. Shourabh was kind enough to briefly translate. Best of all, the Bengali hymns were beautiful, played on drums and the harmonium, an accordion/piano hybrid that I was shown how to play by a young Bengali woman named Dorothy. We even received handouts with a phonetic rendering of the songs for us to sing along. We were happy to return the favor, preparing a song ourselves in honor of the occasion. The walls of St. Thomas Cathedral reverberated with the majestic sound of our angelic voices as we serenaded the congregation with a heartachingly beautiful rendition of “Seek Thee First” (video to come soon)

The church, built in the 1800′s and once home to the head office of the Church of Bangladesh, is now home to a 3 year theological college as well as the Bangladesh equivalents of pre-school and early grade school. Rev. Shourabh was kind enough to offer us cha (tea) and pound cake in one of the seminary classrooms. Another friend of the Morgans, David, was present as well. He recently retired as the head of all of the Church of Bangladesh Social Development Programs, and joined in our discussion of church life at St. Thomas, as well as the difficulties faced by the Church in a country like Bangladesh.

Our last major stop of the day was to the Missionaries of Charity orphanage, located in another area of Old Dhaka and run by nuns from the order of the same name, founded by Mother Theresa. We first visited the sickest of the children, where we learned their stories firsthand — a young child with tuberculosis, a girl who had recently undergone surgery to remove a brain tumor, and two dozen more who all lived together in a single room. We gave them small gifts and played games with the younger children, who were enthralled by our bubble blowing. We next received a hearty welcome by some of the healthy girls, who sang a medley of Bengali and American songs, including the hokey-pokey, which has since become a standard for us to perform as a group when meeting young children. We sang a song or two in return and handed out gifts before moving upstairs to the nursery, where we met very young children, some with severe medical problems. Cases of cerebral palsy, hydrocephalus, and premature births were common. Still, they were delighted to see us, as were we, and we spent a good amount of time holding and playing with them before leaving the orphanage and heading home for the day around 3.

By far this has been our shortest day. Since Friday, we have rarely gotten home before 6 or 6:30, and dinner and time for contemplation comes after that. Yesterday (Tuesday), our day began at 5 AM and didn’t end until midnight. We apologize for the slow updates and hope everybody understands! Peace from Bangladesh!

-CW

Coming Soon:

“Day 3: In which we cross the Buriganga by paddle boat, visit the neighborhood of Khejurbag in Dhaka, participate in a clinic, eat much more curry than is good for us, pay a visit to an old friend and patient of the Morgans, ride some rickshaws, and go to Nayeem Colony, one of the poorest slums, where we discover the true depths of hospitality here in Bangladesh.”