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Paradise?

Adivce?

Not sure how to respond to this email from Maria...

My dear Madam,
How are you? thanks for your reply. I am sorry to say that, i have no job anymore. Because the new madam doesn't need me. She has suspend me from the job. Now I'm wordless. i have spend nine thousand taka to make a home that u send. I can't do any kinds of hard job because of my physically illness. Now I have no money to maintain my family with two child. I want to start a cloth shop. I need your help.

I will be grateful to you. if u save me from my poverty.I miss you . I also miss your kids.

Lots of Family

Lena and her great grandpa taking each other for a walk.

In the course of our lives we have repeatedly made decisions based on the desire to be closer to our families. It was never too difficult a decision since we're lucky to be related to some of the coolest people on the planet. Over the past few weeks the better part of every day has been spent with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents in a maelstrom of activity. Today, we said goodbye to the last of our family leaving for home out of town. I'm sad our month of family is coming to a close...

...but it's not even dark and the babies are tucked in

...Bryce took Titus and Maggie out for a paddle

...and I'm online

I think I can get used to this too.

New Perspective

When we left B-desh we immersed our tired minds and bodies in the surreal worlds of hotels and amusement parks. It was a startling contrast but we embraced the transition to life with neat orderly lines, flat sidewalks, and green grass.

We've been here for nearly a month and sometimes I have the sensation that we're still walking through an amusement park. It seems too good to be true. The air is clear and quiet, there is green grass and an abundance of trees to climb. Best of all, when we go outside, no one seems to notice us. We're just another nondescript family enjoying this peaceful abundant existence.

I am so grateful for it.

But, I recognize that I'm more grateful for it than I've ever been before. I appreciate things in a new way. It's delightful to fill my water bottle from the tap. It's wondrous to have a digital clock reflect the correct time day in and day out. Children are playing outside!

I'm a big believer in "thank you cards" so here goes:

Dear Bangladesh,

Thank you for letting us stay with you. We learned a lot.

Love, The Blogtistis

Double Digits

Somehow in the craziness of the last few weeks Titus turned 10. We did manage to mark the occasion and he was presented the requested binoculars for viewing the night sky. It seems, however, that in our time away we completely forgot the tendency of the sky here to be overcast both day and night. So far we haven't seen any stars. Maybe we shouldn't have encouraged this new interest.

Still, I'm happy for any occasion to celebrate this little guy. I love the way he still gets excited when we pass a playground. And how he's willing to carry two styrofoam swords through three airports for the prospect of battling it out with his cousins. I hope he never loses his sense of fun and play.

Happy Birthday, Titus!

Just Kidding!

Not me. I wasn't just kidding. That's really what happened. Then the next day Bryce went down to have a chat and they apologized for their hasty decision and asked us to stay. So, I guess they were just kidding.

Only it wasn't that funny.

Thanks for all of the support through that time of domicile ambiguity. I really appreciate the understanding and offers of hit men and such. For a while, part of me wanted to just make a clean break and avoid unpredicatble mind-changing landlords. But, in the hope that someone will give us a break when we're in our eighties, we decided to stay.

There was also the fact that we love it here and really really want to stay. We've been trying to enjoy ourselves and are well on our way to taking everything in our easy western lifestyle for granted. Just look at all that grass!

So, now it's official. We are again residents of Vashon Island. You are very welcome to visit ANYTIME. Come see the view out the living room window.

Hello House. Goodbye House.

While still in B-desh we managed to find a house for us to rent. A near Utopian home with four bedrooms, an amazing view of the Puget Sound and Mt. Rainer, and beach access. The levels we stooped to in order to secure such a perfect spot are embarrassing but totally worth it (family members calling and visiting, and an email with a family bio and photo).

We spent last week moving every last bit of our worldly possessions into our new home. It was an exhausting and cathartic process that left us ready to sink into the oblivion of a settled happy life. Looking at the twinkling lights of the Tacoma skyline we imagined that we really had ended up where we always hoped.

Then, on Friday, there was a note on the door from our landlords who live in another house on the same property. They wanted to talk and when we finally had a chance to sit down with them together they said, "We don't think this is the house for you. We think you folks should move out."

Oh sad day of frustration and worry!

So, the fact that our phone and Internet were finally hooked up today is bittersweet since we'll have to leave it all behind in a short while. I'm on a mission online today to look for somewhere new.

Going Home

The last leg of our journey home was a packed flight on United from San Francisco to Seattle. After four days of airplanes, airports, hotels, and amusement parks we all got buckled in and promptly fell asleep.

We stayed in our seats as everyone else disembarked to give the kids a few extra moments of sleep. As the other passengers filed past the compliments were forthcoming.

"What well behaved children!"

"I had no idea there were children on the plane they were so quiet!"

I smiled ironically to myself thinking of what we had gone through in order to have peace and quiet on this last tiny two hour flight home. Still, it's nice to think that there are passengers out there impressed with how well behaved our sleeping children can be to offset the dozens that had to endure Enzo's angry crying and Lena's manic screaming on the two flights before.

I'm so glad that's over.

81 Dome Mosque

I just watched the slideshow of pictures from the trip. It sounds like the main themes were heat, patience, and attitude. A good recipe for dealing with life in B-desh.

Now we're in the throes of sorting and packing. Just two more days in Chittagong.

Happy Birthday Enzo!

Do you remember this little guy? Today he turns two.

He's pretty busy these days tackling his sister and throwing dinosaurs but, luckily for me he hasn't lost his snuggling skills. We're not marking the occasion very well since he's home alone with me and Lena. I tried to sing Happy Birthday to him but got shut down. He wanted "Twinkle Twinkle" instead. I did give him some brownies with banana. I think he appreciated that at least.

We also want to send birthday wishes to Enzo's special birthday buddy. Happy Birthday Chaka!

Keep Them Busy

Bryce, Titus and Maggie left yesterday afternoon for their big trip to the Sundarbans. Maggie was lucky to get to go despite last minute change of plans. So now it's just me and these little crazies for the next week or so. Here they are getting some energy out on the treadmills. Didn't last nearly long enough.

Terri Bazaar

Saturday night, right about when the babies go to bed, Summer decided we should go visit Terri Bazaar. It's a market about town with a reputation for amazing fabric, killer accessories, and cheap prices. Summer and I went with Carol, the most famous math mom in Chittagong, out into the dark and drizzling rain.

I'm constantly impressed with the dazzling bling on the clothes around here. I am a pebble among gems. Maria continues to be disappointed in my faded t-shirts (even though most of them were made in B-desh!). Once when I wore dangly earrings she told me shyly that they were very beautiful. The truth is that I would really like to wear irridescent colors, beaded bangles, embroidered mirrors, and rhinestone studded sandals. So, we went out to see what we could find.

The Bazaar didn't disappoint. We were dropped off down a long alleyway bordered by piles of soot and garbage that the rain had turned into black mud. The smell of stale urine drifted in and out on the breeze. In many ways it was a typical Chittagong side street. But the dark night sky was brilliantly illuminated by the shining fabrics and gold threaded ribbons displayed in the shops lining the street. Even when the power went out the street glowed, almost arrogantly, as if it knew just how beautiful it was.

I had a great time. I loved it all, including stepping in the mud and being grazed by passing rickshaws. The picture doesn't do it justice (of course) but hopefully the saris and ribbons I bought will be just as brilliant in the days to come.

Sightseeing

This last week we spent our mornings "sightseeing". Thanks to Summer we were able to go without Enzo and Lena! Next week Bryce and Titus are hoping to see some tigers in the wild when they visit The Sundarbans. Maggie is looking forward to her performance in the Elementary School Closing Program. The littleuns and I are looking forward to some cool rainy weather brought on by Laila. Here are some glimpses of last week:

Titus swimming with some kids in the Bay of Bengal. The water was warmer than than the oppressive muggy air. Titus was sweating when he came out.

Ladies at the garment factory making some shorts for K-Mart.

A peek into the Catholic School where the children from the orphanage attend. Such beautiful grounds and gardens. The staff were caring and attentive. It was painted cheerful bright colors. But, it was still hard to leave those little babies behind.

Bryce with a couple stacks of life rings recovered at the shipbreaking yards. We didn't get to see them in action but we did a bit of shopping. Bought an old spyglass.

Book Review

Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide by Nicholas D. Kristof

My rating: 5 of 5 stars A very important message and call to action. I so appreciate the women who shared their stories and the authors' efforts to make a difference in a world needing change. There might have been some inaccuracies and inconsistencies, and I can't make a blanket statement agreeing with the book as a whole, but I'm so glad I read it and highly recommend it.

Garment Factory Tour

By Titus:

Today we visited a garment factory. It wasn't anything like I expected. I thought it was going to be by open street not an alleyway! I thought it would look fancy not beat up!

Inside was a different story. First, we walked up a flight and 1/4. Then, we got to the main floor. Accidentally, we went the wrong way. First we had to see the manager. So we went in his office and talked a while. Finally he agreed to give us a tour.

We went to the working area. I can't remember the name of the first area but I think it's where they put, store and check the clothes they make. The second area must have been really boring because I can't remember what it was. The third was a stitching and sewing and a little cutting. This was also the floor where the doctor was.

The next floor was about the same just no doctor. Then we had a snack and left.

By Maggie:

Today I visited a garment factory. When I was there I was really surprised to see so many sewing machines. All the sewing machines looked different. Some were big, others were small. But all women worked on them.

Today I also visited a beach. At the beginning I got a little wet. But even though there were people watching I played on the rocks and sat on the rocks.

Even the car ride was fun because I sat and sat and sat and it was fun because I was sleepy.

Coconut Harvester

We live on the third floor. Apartment 3D if you're ever in the neighborhood and feel like visiting.

It's actually the fourth floor since the ground floor doesn't count around here. That puts our view right at the frond level of a full grown coconut palm.

For the past few moths we have been watching some coconuts ripen on the trees outside our kitchen window. The other morning I heard some rustling outside the window. When I looked outside I saw this guy crouched in the tree. Just your friendly neighborhood coconut harvester and palm tree pruner. He climbed up and down with the help of a rope (and possibly some invisible limbs).

He was happy to let me take his picture because Enzo was with me, waving, and being uncharacteristically friendly. I think Enzo was very impressed. A new standard has been set for climbing skills.

Labour Suite

Yesterday we finally made it to the maternity hospital. It is a private hospital and therefore fairly nice. We had to spend a little bit of time explaining why we were there and that we only wanted to see how things were done there. They were a little reluctant to let us in but finally called the Chief Medical Officer to meet us and give us a tour if she approved.

Dr. Rosie, wearing a white coat over her shalwar kameez, was soft spoken and efficient. We started in the induction room. A white walled room extending from the cement hallway with six metal framed beds. The beds were all full, some with two women together. They all laid obediently on their sides facing us. Nurses in white gowns and peaked caps were about, checking their IV bags and cutting fruit onto a metal plate in the corner.

Behind us a doorway was cut through the wall. The opening was covered by hanging fabric. When it was pulled back we could observe the delivery room. Three high beds were pushed against the wall. All were occupied and the tiny woman in the center bed was calling out in a voice universally acknowledged to herald birth. A nurse stood at her feet calmly setting instruments on a tray.

Just past the delivery room doorway was a wide door with a steep ramp leading down to the Operating Theatre. The anaesthesiologist was nearby and explained that he was preparing for his third C-Section that day. The lucky woman stood behind him near the table draped in a blue gown.

We saw the C-Section recovery room next and got only a small peek of the nursery (sweet little baby heads laying in wooden cots). Women with natural deliveries might stay for up to 24 hours but usually go straight home.

This entire labour suite could fit inside my apartment easily. And, amazingly, they do 700-800 births per month (they said perhaps 200 of them are cesareans).

As we asked questions and observed the quiet business of women around us involved in one of the most significant experiences of their lives I marveled at it all.

The building was old. There were chunks of cement missing from walls. There weren't doors or even curtains between the beds. And there was a significant absence of equipment (my ears and heart strained to hear the quickly skipping beats of an electronically monitored fetal heart rate). But, it was clean. The staff were efficient and pleasant. And I was comforted by the distinct impression that these women would be safely delivered and on their way home, happy with babies in arms.

And really, isn't that what it's all about?

Ridin' Around in My CNG

Bryce, Titus and Maggie took me out to dinner the other night for Mother's Day. We decided to go to a new restaurant (very worth it) that was across town so the first step was cramming into a CNG together and enduring the hot and dusty fume filled 20 minute ride. Bryce snapped some shots of the trip.

It reminded me that I never posted on here the Warden's Message (from the US Embassy here) from late March.

Recently a U.S. Embassy employee was injured during a purse snatching while riding in a Rickshaw. An unknown subject leaned out of a window of a passing vehicle and grabbed the employee’s purse. The employee was pulled violently off the rickshaw and dragged, sustaining multiple abrasions. The incident occurred in the diplomatic zone in the early evening.

The recent incident involving rickshaw use is a reminder that one is exposed to special risks whenever riding on a rickshaw. To minimize exposure to accidents and crimes of opportunity, each passenger should carefully evaluate the situation when making a decision to use a rickshaw. Factors might include the expected route, time of day, traffic congestion, condition of the rickshaw and assessment of the rickshaw driver. It is strongly recommended that handbags, knapsacks and the like not be carried while riding on a rickshaw. For security reasons, the Embassy recommends that U.S. citizens avoid riding in taxis, buses, and engine-powered rickshaws (CNGs).

Of course if you take away rickshaws, CNGs, buses, and taxis there really isn't any way for us to get around since we don't have our own car and driver. We decided to keep risking it. But I always try to make friends with the drivers by paying them way more than necessary. It's like insurance, right? And besides, I'm no good at bargaining.

Happy Mother's Day

Life can be complicated and unforgiving. It is full of suprises and sometimes switchbacks that catch us off guard and, in my case at least, throw us off balance. Lately I've had plenty of time and opportunity to appreciate how the things that trip me up pale in light of the challenges of others.

I have never faced the kind of struggle that meets so many women of the world on a daily basis. Extreme poverty, hunger. Violence or threat of violence. Lack of education, lack of choice. Prostitution and trafficking.

Essentially, I have experienced a near fairy tale life all this time without really realizing it. I have spent most of my life surrounded by strong capable women and supportive men. People around me have always assumed I could do the things I wanted to do, and I basked (and sometimes succeeded) in their encouragement.

On Mother's Day, which always feels like a celebration of all women to me, I want to thank and recognize the amazing women in my life. Those who have, by example and practice, shown me the value of education, love, play, and opportunity. My life has been blessed by you.

I hope and pray, on a daily basis, that I can do the same for others. For my children, for you, and for women around the world.

Thank you!

The Birthday Recap

Maggie's birthday celebration lasted several days: Toys and a special outfit to school on her birthday. Swimming at the Peninsula Hotel in the afternoon. Dinner and playing at Sugar Bun. An entire banana split to herself! Yesterday we finished things off with a party with friends. Anzeli and Maria outdid themselves with a feast for lunch so while the kids watched a movie projected on the wall we got to chat and eat with some friends and neighbors. A great day all in all. Happy Birthday Maggie

Maggie wanted to blog about her birthday

Today was my 8th birthday! I feel so different now. And I'm excited because I'm finally going to go to Disneyland in Hong Kong.

Love, Maggie

Zoo Trip

Bryce and a colleague made plans to go to the zoo today (Saturday). They are part of a summer program for students to learn active observation skills through bird watching and identification. The zoo has birds so they thought it might be a good place to start.

When I realized that I was going to be stuck at home on a weekend morning doing the same thing I do every other day of the week I did the unthinkable and invited myself along! Two academics on a work related outing wouldn’t mind the company of a bored mother and four busy kids, right?

The zoo is about what you would expect from the second biggest city in Bangladesh. Animals lounged in the shade or paced their concrete floor in repetitive unhurried motion. We were separated from the animals by a thick wire mesh and, for the more dangerous animals (lions and tigers and bears - oh my), there were some bamboo fences lashed with wire.

In all reality we could have touched most of the animals if we had wanted to. But, we didn't really want to. They smelled strongly of urine and didn't have much to do besides roll around in dust all day.

Titus and Maggie made use of the bird watching binoculars to get some close up views. Their comments on the animals centered on a dismal theme.

"The alligator is dead. No wonder... he doesn't have any water."

"The monkey is dead. Oh, no he's not. I can see him breathing. He must be dying."

"Aren't snakes supposed to move. It must be dead too."

"The birds are the only lively thing in this zoo. No wonder Papa wants his students to watch them.

Unfortunately, Lena didn't seem to be able to see most of the animals. In her defense, they were mostly very still, away from us observers, and hidden in shade. She spent most of her time wondering why I wouldn't let go of her hand and let her try to climb the fence by the Asiatic Black Bear Cage.

Enzo was definitely the most impressed. Maybe he's the most settled culturally because the wonder in his eyes seeing a bear prowl around just a few feet away was identical that of the tiny Bangladeshis around us.

We went to the zoo to observe the animals but with inevitable irony we ended up being observed ourselves. We were followed the whole time we were there and any time we stopped the crowd grew and cell phone cameras started clicking. Children and adults all watched us with unembarrassed persistence. I felt like we should be behind a cage with a label (Wild Americans, very rare).

I might have lost my cool once when a father with two kids tried to take some sneaky shots of me and the babies from behind. "No!" I said, rather loudly. "We're not animals at the zoo. Take pictures of the animals." He was very apologetic. I feel bad I wasn't more cool.

The entire tour cost 15 Taka (about 20 cents). It was worth every penny. At least we can say we saw a Bengal Tiger while we were in Bangladesh.

(note: picture is not mine. Our camera is still non-functioning and none of the animals had anything green near them).

Playgrounds

Next door to our building is an elementary school. When we're down in the carport in the mornings we can hear high pitched voices calling to each other. They get higher and more insistent when they spot us through the barred windows on the second floor that see over the wall. The brown faces with big smiles press to the window and call to Enzo and Lena. The babies never notice but I always get distracted. It must bug the teachers too because on a couple of occasions someone has come along to close the shutters with a bang.

Yesterday the AUW students and faculty faced off in a basketball game in the court at the school next door. The kids and I went to watch. It was the first time we'd been in their courtyard. I thought that maybe we could spend time on their play equipment when the little ones lost interest in the game. I had seen the play area and from our rooftop. From 5 floors up it looked quite cheerful. By "quite cheerful" I mean that everything was painted red.

The playground consisted just of a couple of metal swings and two teeter totters (one of which was broken and unusable). We played on both for a while and unsurprisingly little people did get hurt. Ragged and pitted concrete doesn't make for soft landings, even when covered in a thick layer of dust and litter. The kids had the most fun jumping off a broken concrete staircase whose railing was nothing but rubble and whose metal frame stuck out threateningly in all directions.

Sometimes it's hard to remember the green grass surrounding the network of colorful playgrounds we were once accustomed to.

A friend of ours once told us a story of an international aid organization that raised money to build a playground here in Bangladesh. It was to cost 10,000 US dollars to get the playground here and set up. The money was raised by donation while people here found the perfect village and location for the park. Everything was in order until a government official announced that there is a tax on something like that. About $15,000 dollars, he thought. The organization tried to negotiate and explain how they would never be able to pay a tax like that. In the end, the playground was built somewhere in Africa.

Morning Blues

It's late morning but dark and gray outside. The atmosphere is heavy with anticipation and maybe even rain. I hope it cools things down, maybe a breeze will find its way inside.

The dark day fits my mood. I'm sneezing and sniffling, allergic to who knows what, and wondering where my patience has gone. Perhaps it's still enjoying the weekend.

Hair Cut Specifics

The other day Titus came home with an unexpected homework assignment. In the "other" section of his homework journal was written "haircut". He explained that his teacher had asked him to write it down because his hair was too long and for each day he returned to school with it un-cut he would receive a demerit. Titus was really bugged.

We waited for Bryce to get home. He went straight to the source, the student handbook which states, under the heading "General Appearance":

Students should be habitually clean and dressed neatly. The school uniform is to be worn on all class days and for all public school functions... Boys should have their hair trimmed regularly...

The next few minutes were spent wondering why anyone would include such an non specific rule in the handbook.

For example, "What do they mean by regular? That just means at even intervals. Every six months is regular, or every two years for that matter."

"What about trimmed?!? Half an inch could be cut off waist length hair and that could be called trimmed!"

You get the idea. You have to be specific around these guys.

There was some talk of resisting the injunction. Titus didn't want to be told when to get his hair cut, after all, and nobody felt like taking a trip down the dusty street to the barber.

But, since Titus doesn't actually care how long his hair is, they finally decided to go.

The pictures are pre-cut. What do you think? Too long? I don't have any after pictures because it looks like the camera isn't waterproof anymore.

Thoughts on Polygamy

"Bangladesh, like many others countries with large Muslim population, does have law, as personal law, to regulate polygamous marriage of its Muslim communities. The relevant portions of that law, i.e., section 6 of the Muslim Family Laws Ordinance 1961, reads as follows:

1. No man, during the subsistence of an existing marriage, shall, except with the previous permission in writing of the arbitration council, contract another marriage …

2. … (such) application form … shall be submitted to the chairman (of the arbitration council)… and shall state the reasons for the proposed marriage and whether the consent of the existing wife or wives has been obtained thereto.

3. On receipt of the application … the Chairman (of the arbitration council) shall ask the applicant and his existing wife or wives, each, to nominate a representative, and the arbitration council so constituted may, if satisfied that the proposed marriage is necessary and just, grant, subject to such conditions, if any, as may be deemed fit, the permission applied for.

This law has given the Arbitration Council a wide discretionary power to deal with the issue. Also, it has not defined what can possibly be ‘necessary and just grounds’ in this regard. These are why, according to legal experts, this law is prone to be abused. They think it necessary to define the expression ‘necessary and just ground’ with illustrations. Herewith I would like to add that that should be done in light of the rules of conduct provided in the holy Quran. No doubt, that will ensure maximum good to the Muslim individuals as well as the society."

Excerpt from Polygamy in Bangladesh

by Ana on Dec.20, 2009, under polygamy in various countries

I've had some interesting exposure to the idea of polygamy the past few days and wanted to find out more about it's role in Bangladeshi life. Unsurprisingly, the practice of polygamy here doesn't always follow the letter of the law (Or the spirit of the law for that matter. Refer back to the article above for an interesting summary of the interpretation of polygamy from the Quran).

It seems common to hear stories of Bangladeshi men marrying their second wives secretly, without the knowledge or permission of their first wife. There also seems to be an unhappy tendency for families of first wives to be abandoned financially in light of the second marriage.

It is a huge social issue with complex reasons for and against. I know I only understand it on a very superficial level (especially since I'm a foreinger here and found these articles on the internet). I just wanted to share a little bit here because it's been on my mind.

I thought this article was interesting too, especially because it discusses some possible benefits of polygamy from a very simple muslim perspective.

For a chilling example of how one wife reacted to the news that her husband planned to marry again, read here.

Fun in the Sun

We spent yesterday fulfilling the month long promise to take the kids back to the water park. What could be better than a sunny day playing with friends in the water? Add a couple of goats climbing around the water slides and some stray dogs wading in the green water next to the toddlers and you have a uniquely Bangladesh experience.

It's a bit tricky enjoying this water park to its fullest since they only have power enough to turn on one attraction at a time. It's pretty obvious when the wave pool is working, but sometimes figuring out which slide is going can be a challenge.

The other steep learning curve we faced yesterday related to the comparative effectiveness of Bangladeshi sunscreen. For a country obsessed with skin lightening lotions you'd think they'd put more effort into making good sunscreen. Ours didn't work at all. We're all a bit pink today.

Wow, that water looks much worse in the pictures.

Didn't

You were so encouraging and still I couldn't bring myself to do the sari thing. But just look at this. Even despite my shockingly bad photography skills you can tell that Maria and Anzeli are quite stunning in their saris.

And then look at my goofy scary self with this apparition of Bangladeshi loveliness. I think this picture is reason enough itself for me to avoid saris in the future.

But, if you need further evidence, then listen to this!

Anzeli wears a sari everyday. No matter what the activity or weather she wears the ornate fabrics carefully wrapped around her tiny shirt and bare stomach. One day she explained to me that it's just the most comfortable option. She did squats, climbed on a chair, and jogged a little around the room to show me just how comfortable and movement friendly a sari can be.

The other main dress option here for women is the shalwar kameez. This includes pants, a tunic type top, and a long scarf. This is what Maria usually wears. On the day Anzeli was educating me on the many virtues of sari clad life she paused a moment to ask Maria why she didn't wear them more often. After a long serious discussion in Bangla Anzeli translated the reason why, "Sari make Maria too fat."

Yesterday, as the ladies leaving to their various New Year festivities Anzeli had Maria twirl around to show the overall effect of the shiny sequins and sewn on mirrors. She stopped her mid-twirl so she was facing away from us. "See," she says, pointing at Maria's well concealed backside, "sari make Maria too fat." She discussed this with Maria for a while who sadly nodded her head in agreement. They rearranged the drape of the fabric then went on their celebratory way.

Now I know there is very little chance I'll subject myself to such a revealing outfit among such honest people.

Two Angels

Through some rather unpredictable set of circumstances we have become the lucky employers of two house helpers.

Anzeli (my angel in an orange sari) came back the other day. Recovered from both her illness and her heartache of losing her most beloved Dr. Michelle Madam (she said to me, "I cry cry all the time. If Dr. Michelle Madam say you come India with me, I go. I go."). We hadn't expected her back but we were happy to see her.

But, while Anzeli was unwell we had hired someone else. Maria, the young divorcee whose pernicious former husband apparently left her and their two children because he didn't want to pay the medical expenses that having a family might bring. I have felt very protective of and loyal to Maria since the day she fell sobbing uncontrollably on my shoulder.

So, we decided we would have them both. We hoped that maybe Anzeli could share some of her wisdom gained over years of experience working for western families with Maria who is just starting to figure out what to do and how.

It seemed like a good idea but I was nervous that they might not like it. What if there was some sort of fight for seniority? What if they didn't like each other and took it out on us? In my crime show laden mind I imagined everything from cat fights to turf wars.

But, it turns out I had nothing to worry about.

They have spent the last two days laughing and talking. Last night, while there was nothing to do, they sat together, cross legged on the floor and held hands. They pulled colorful scarves over their heads and listened to the evening call to prayer together.

Today we discussed the Bangladeshi New Year Holiday coming up on Wednesday. I wanted them to take the day off. They wanted to work. We compromised that they would just work half the day.

Then they told me that I should wear a sari for the Holiday. I laughed and explained that a midriff bearing outfit was out of the question for a person of my size. To their credit, they were genuinely surprised that I would think so. In fact, in their opinion, what better way to dress people of all sizes than a carefully draped length of ornate fabric. I hadn't considered that logic (and still don't).

It looks like my housekeeping and cooking skills might be obsolete for the next two months. I'm good with that.

Swimming

Not much news lately. We took the kids swimming again last weekend. This time we tried the pool at the Agrabad Hotel. It was a much bigger pool but instead of being surrounded by flowering trees in decorative pots we were surrounded by stacks of old chairs and broken drain grates. These pictures are from the other pool. Sometimes it's fun to have a waterproof camera.

Easter Weekend Highlights

* Dying eggs thanks to some great ladies who brought a kit back from the states for us. Duck eggs. They were the only white eggs we could find. The kids told me they taste pretty good.

* Maria's confusion at our egg dying enthusiasm. I found the leftover eggs in the freezer this morning... Definite confusion.

* Maggie's easter basket covered in ants after hiding on the fan blade all night long. They must have come down through the ceiling. She had an amazingly good attitude about it.

* Enzo and Lena's delight at their new, truly obnoxious, plastic musical toys.

* 1:00 am live audio broadcast of General Conference. Definitely worth it.

* Finding out that Bryce very likely isn't suffering from a rare tropical respiratory infection. Just another run of the mill cold.

* Summer came back!

* Thinking to myself that next Easter I'll get to be near my family, celebrate together, and look forward to many more Easters to come. Two months to go...

Drug Busters

Today, instead of their usual maroon plaid uniform set Titus and Maggie were permitted to wear their Drug busters T Shirts and "a clean pair denim blue jeans". A small concession but they were both totally excited to forgo their usual proper appearance for something a little less traditional.

The front of the T-shirt gives the mathematical equation for drug less happiness:

Life - Drugs = Freedom

We hope the converse isn't true (as pointed out by our middle school neighbor):

Life = Freedom + Drugs

Maggie came home doubly excited by the news that she, "out of the whole elementary school" won first place in the poster contest. She said some of the other posters were disqualified because it was too obvious that an older brother or sister had helped them. Her poster said, "At WCA we say drugs go away!" Pretty clever, huh? She won 200 taka (not quite three dollars) and is planning on saving it for something special.

It sounds like there was a little program about drug avoidance given by the high school drama class. I asked what Maggie learned and she said, "Well, I'm definitely not going to drink drugs." So I think it was successful.

Storm Blog

Last night I dreamed that someone was throwing chairs down from around the table. This morning when I woke up an awe inspiring thunderstorm was booming outside. Lightning flashed through the sky every few seconds and the deep rumbling was almost continuos. We watched, riveted to the spectacle just outside our window, until dawn lightened the sky to deep gray.

Rain started to pour, as the thunder died out. Palm trees blowing in the wind reached their bright green fronds to the sky as if in gratitude for the shower that rinsed off months of dust and soot.

It’s sunny now, and hot. But today the sun is shining on a new Chittagong. One that is crisp and green, full of electricity and possibility. Anything could happen on a day like this.

To Market

We found these home made bubble wand sets at the market. They work really well.

At first she just asked if she could take Lena shopping. Then, when I refused, she came up with the idea that we all go shopping. There was such a sense of urgency and anticipation about the suggestion that I wavered, even though I knew there was no part of me that wanted to take two toddlers shopping in an open market in a developing country. She pounced on my hesitation and arranged for her brother to drive us. Through the 20 words we mutually know we arranged for a time. 3:00. That's when everyone is home from school or up from naps.

She was happy. She bounced around sweeping and mopping while I played with the little ones, uncomfortable in the corner already anxious about what I had agreed to do. After a little while she said she needed to go shopping and left. This was a huge relief. I thought maybe I had misunderstood and she decided to go without me.

I was reading on my bed when she came back, dazzling in a pink and blue shalwar kameez that sparkled and shined. Her hair was done. Heavy eye make up had been applied. "Madame," she said. "Go shopping."

Of course, there was no way we could go shopping then. Even if she did look so well prepared. I tried to convey the complicated sentiment that I wasn't about to go shopping when Enzo and Lena were napping, Maggie was due home from school in half and hour, and Titus an hour after that.

In the end I had to call a Bangladeshi friend to translate. She graciously spoke to both of us on the phone and when I got the phone back she related, "I've never heard of a maid thinking like this before. She wants you to go shopping with her and she thinks it will make you happy. She said you already promised to go and that her brother is waiting at the car. Andra, I have to tell you that this is very strange. I don't even know what to think of it."

I looked at Maria, so obviously excited to go and asked my friend to translate that I would go, just not until 3:00. So, all was settled. For real this time.

I had to resort to bribery to get Titus and Maggie to go. Enzo had to be awoken from a nap which goes against some very deep seated beliefs. But, at 3:00, we were downstairs, eight people piling into a car built for four.

The market wasn't very far away and we were able to park just outside the gate. We got out of the car and stepped over a man, missing both arms and both legs, prostrate on the ground. We walked by a child, with blood on his face and arms, who looked like he had been dragged on cement. We avoided and sidestepped children begging, huge eyes in gaunt faces, while we were whisked through the market.

After visiting a few shops, looking quickly at the wares while trying to keep Enzo quiet, Lena in view, Titus occupied, and Maggie polite, I realized that I was expected to spend up big. "Madame, shopping," was repeated by both Maria and her brother as I looked around desperately searching for something I actually wanted to buy.

I picked out a stainless steel tiered lunch box that Bryce had said he wanted. The brother bought it for me. Maggie picked out a red purse with sequins and fringe. He bought it again. Titus, Enzo and Lena all got plastic toys that broke immediately.

We walked around for an hour, looking for something for me. I should have just agreed to the earrings that looked like tiny chandeliers. Or one of the plastic sequined headbands or hair clips. But, in my distraction I couldn't concentrate and kept saying no until I realized I was stuck shopping until I bought something for myself. Fabric, I thought, as we walked towards a shop under a huge marquee. There has to be something here I would like.

Unfortunately, this is where Enzo, the sleep deprived toddler really lost it and where Lena became lost between the rows of hanging fabric. It was clear we had to go. Even Maria could tell.

So in the car on the way home her brother asked Maggie, "What is the favorite color of your mother?"

"Orange," Maggie replied.

"Madame," he turns his attention to me, "I will find for you some wonderful fabric for shirt. It will be orange, and perhaps white and perhaps black. Yes?"

"Yes," I agree. What else can I say?

Bryce laughed when I told him we had gone shopping. I didn't even tell him the whole story before he started laughing. And now I have an orange, black and white shirt to look forward to.

It was a thought provoking experience for me. Out of everything that I learned I think the one I appreciate most right now is that Maria, our maid, a 22 year old single mother in her first job, is looking out for me and wants me to be happy. Whatever other frustrations we run into (shopping or at home) that's really nice to know.

Outside Adventures

When I say "outside" I really mean the covered carpark/basement of the building. When the little ones need a diversion out of the apartment we'll either head to the roof where the sun shines hot but the sky is pretty, or the basement where the dust is plentiful but the shade is nice. Today we went downstairs.

We usually take a ball or two downstairs and kick it around for a while. Then there is the fun involved in trying to play in the bucket of dirty water the drivers use to wash the cars. That usually leads to trying to touch the newly shined vehicles leaving smeared handprints for the drivers to wash off later.

Sometimes the guards take a break from gate watching and newspaper reading to play a little bit. This guy is often running back and forth practicing his cricket bowl. He sometimes makes fun of Enzo's bad form when throwing the ball but Enzo doesn't mind. They're good friends.

Sometimes we play a little hide and seek around the generator. But when it's on we try to avoid the exhaust.

We also try to avoid this table that is ominously piled with wires presumably capable of both providing the entire building with power and electrocuting unsuspecting passersby (especially those with damp little hands).

There's a great little cart to push and be pushed in (although I never seem to get a turn).

And that's what it's like to play with Enzo and Lena downstairs. We've done it often enough that they've got the whole routine down to half an hour. That includes the time it takes for the necessary wash down and change of clothes that follows each visit "outside".

Taking it Slow

We're getting back on track. There hasn't been any fevers or unexplained bouts of tearfulness today. We're taking it slow and taking advantage of all the books we've accumulated in the past month. Thanks to some well timed care packages and an unplanned trip home we now have enough books to keep everyone in reading. Titus is reading the Animorphs books for the third or fourth time now. Maggie is making her way through Junie B. Jones and Horrible Harry. Enzo's favorite seems to be Brown Bear again and Lena's favorite is still which ever book Enzo has.

Malaise

|məˈlāz; -ˈlez|

noun

a general feeling of discomfort, illness, or uneasiness whose exact cause is difficult to identify : a society afflicted by a deep cultural malaise | a general air of malaise.
The occupants of this apartment are suffering from severe malaise. Symptoms include lying for long periods of time on pillows and staring at ceilings. Or if one is a toddler, purposeless whining and wandering about in only diapers.
The resident head nurse blames the hot weather. I don't disagree. I just want it to go away. I'm opposed to any discomfort, illness, or uneasiness that decreases toddler nap times.

Mr Fix It

Yesterday the plumber came to fix the drain in our wet sink (I will not describe the odious concept that is a wet sink since it is probably the one thing in Bangladesh I hate the most). But the plumber comes and I start to feel embarrassed, like someone is playing a joke on me, because he's the same guy that has been introduced to me before as the electrician and carpenter.

I'm not complaining. I think he does a good job, fixing everything from drains to light switches, I'm just not sure how to respond. Do I act as though we've never met before (even though he was here last week) since now he's in his plumber persona? Do I smile and say, "I remember you"?

I suspect they use these titles to reassure me that he knows what he's doing but I think I'd prefer a ubiquitous title like The Fix it Guy or Repairman. It makes me miss Fred, the capable facilities manager at Orchard Park, who didn't see the need to rename himself every time he came to our apartment.

However, lest my mom worry she's raised such an ungrateful child, he did do a good job. He even cleaned out the drain in our shower.

Poolside

Today Titus and Maggie met someone new who asked them, "What do you like to do for fun?"

Titus said, "Play video games."

Maggie said, "Movies."

I just wanted to post some pictures of them having fun to prove to myself they like to do other things as well.

Here they are playing in the inflatable paddle pool I brought with me last week. Kudos to Target for having their summer stuff out in March. Check out the guy on the roof of the next building who watched them play for about 20 minutes.

F is not for Fun

I know you're aware of Titus' hate hate relationship with school. If not, then I'll just sum it up: Titus hates going to school here.

About a month ago I saw a spark of hope. He was given an assignment to create his own insect. The requirements: draw a picture of the insect in its ecosystem, create a model of the insect, and write a paragraph describing the ins and outs of this insect's life.

Titus was totally hooked. He came home from school, immediately filled out his worksheet to help his assignments along, and made a 3-D model of the insect he named Grant on the computer. It was such a relief to have him be so engaged.

Fast forward to a few days ago when we got an email from his teacher informing us that Titus had not turned any of it in and that he was facing getting three F's for the science assignments he was missing.

This sparked a long discussion between two confused parents about the relative value of education, assignments, and learning. Is there any way to force a feeling of intrinsic value in school and school work? Is this just a nine year old boy thing to do? Are Bryce and I just confused because we belong to the boring set who actually liked school?

We talked it over with the little guy and weren't at all surprised when he said he didn't care if he got all F's. He wasn't surprised either when we said we did care so he gamely finished all three assignments in about an hour and a half and turned them in the next day. Ms. J (bless her) extended the deadline for our irresponsible little procrastinator and he came home the same day with three perfect scores.

He couldn't quite hide his smile when he told me his grade. He even went so far as to say his classmates were impressed with Grant - the realistic burrowing insect.

But, I'm still not sure. Were we right to force the issue? Would it have been better to leave him to his F's and the satisfaction of knowing he made his point?