Two Sides of a Cricket World Cup

I was thinking yesterday how here in Bangladesh I live in a world of extremes. Situations of extreme joy and situations of extreme sorrow. An abundance of food and thousands who go to bed hungry. Extreme wealth and extreme poverty. Good health and terrible sickness.
What got me thinking was my mate Raj*. Raj is 8years old, he makes his living by selling stickers at Gulshan 2 circle. I walk through that circle at least twice a day so have got to know him and a few other kids quite well, and would call them friends. Raj doesn't try to sell me stickers now but just comes over for a chat.
I haven't seen Raj or any of my friends from the Gulshan 2 circle for a while. It is all to do with the cricket world cup. The government made orders about cars and buses being tided up, they planted numerous flowers, put statues up, erected giant cricket balls as well as big screens to watch the cricket on, and generally had the place spruced up a bit. It has quite an atmosphere about the place - especially when Bangladesh is playing.
Unfortunately for Raj, sprucing the place up meant he was out.
But yesterday I saw Raj. He greeted me with a big smile and a kemon achen (how are you), I responded by saying bhalo ache (I am good) and then asked where he had been as I had not seen him in a long time. He tells me that the police beat him and took him far away. He tells me it is still difficult now because of the cricket. He explains all of this with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say, this is just the way life is, before seeing a potential customer and running of with a dekha hobe (see you again).
It is a place of extremes here. As people enjoy the glitz and glamour of joint hosting the cricket world cup, we have people like Raj who are cast aside and treated as less than human. It is hard to see both sides. I sometimes feel guilty for enjoying the less crowded streets since the poor have been removed. I feel sadness and anger towards a country that allows this kind of treatment of it's poor, and I wait expectantly, praying for God's Kingdom to come in Bangladesh.

*name changed

Reflections on a great week

This had to be the follow on from the last blog :)
I had a trip to Kolkata this last week just a few days to catch up with the team and have a few meetings.
It was wonderful to be in the place that will be my home and dream of possibilities for the future.
I have some concrete things I will be doing when I arrive at the end of April, all of which I am very excited about. I managed to catch up with a few friends as well.
I was inwardly dreading the return to Bangladesh after such a good week in Kolkata, but the week back here has been wonderful.

I have started a new module at language school which is medical vocab and lessons. It is hard work but great. Reminds me of my first few days at nursing school, trying to remember all of the body parts, disease names etc except this time it really is another language :).

It has also been fun to watch all of Bangladesh become so excited about the hosting of the opening ceremony of the ICC World Cup. They have been cleaning the streets ordering new paint work on all the buses and having a general spruce up. I watched the opening ceremony last night and felt proud to be in Bangladesh. What an achievement for them.
I think I was most excited about seeing the team captains brought in on a rickshaw each. Those rickshaws drivers looked so proud to be a part of the ceremony, and it optimised so much about Bangladesh. Ah you got to love it.

Well that is about it, it is hard to articulate what makes a week good, but it has been a good one. No stars on the start chart - see previous post if you are confused about this - Some good chill outs with God, and feeling super excited about the future.
Hope your weeks have been as good as mine.

Reflections on a hard week

So this week has been hard, maybe it is because I am in another culture shock cycle, maybe it is because I am sick of being in a classroom,or maybe it was from a bad day of harassment.
I had one very bad day on Thursday - loosing the plot and doing a lot of shouting and very close to swinging my bag (which contained at the time a very large heavy dictionary) in the direction of one man's head. Ah it's been a hard week.
Let me tell you what happened. I was walking down the street on my way to class and a guy walks past me and shouts in my face "whore". Not pleasant- however nothing to unusual. Despite being dressed in a very conservative manner all of the time I experience this sort of harassment on a semi regular basis. Some days it gets to you other days you can just shake it off.
About 30seconds later a car drives past, the driver stops and asks me to get in he wants my services for 2hours (use your imagination as to what he wants) after telling him no he repeated his statement again this time using some expletives. Again I said no. The third time he called me some very nasty things.
At this point I let loose with a range of expletives of my own letting him know just what a horrible person he is etc etc. I was simultaneously working out if I could manage to hit him in the head with my bag (and heavy dictionary) through the car window. Fortunately for both of our sakes the range of expletives I spoke made him understand that I was not interested.
This was the last straw I came home and was mad not just at the man but at the culture at life and everything.
I was trying to figure it out, and wrote in my journal trying to process through everything. Here is a little excerpt:
Sometimes this place feels too much for me. Who am I amongst it all? Who am I when people speak negatively into my life? Who am I when I no longer find my identity in what I am doing? Who am I when I am struggling with language? Who am I when I feel as though I can't do anything right? Who am I when I am no longer in control of anything.
Who am I? I am a beloved child of God, that is who I am. Regardless of what strangers speak into my life. This is my identity.

I feel like this is what made it seem so overwhelming. I lost track of who I was.
God is with me, he sees what is happening, he sees the hurt, he hears the mocking and He is there, walking me through it.
It is still really hard and I don't like the shouting but when I remember who I am and that I am not alone it is easier to process and deal with.
My flatmates and I have also come up with a star chart. Each shouting gets you a star, a particularly bad shout and you get a purple star worth 5 of the regular ones. Once we hit 50 stars we get a treat :)
We started last week and I am about halfway
Blessings

A Prayer of Reflection on Romans 12:1-2

"Therefore I urge you, brothers and sisters in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God - this is your true worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - his good, pleasing and perfect will" Romans 12 1-2

God your mercy and love astounds me
It is so hard to grasp the idea of unconditional love
Help me to experience your love mercy and grace more fully

You call for living sacrifices
Today I offer my life afresh
Help me to see where you are active
and to be used by you

I want to worship you in all that I do
When life is hard may I praise you
When life is busy may I praise you
In the noise and in the quiet may my life worship You

I am so often tempted by this world
When I am tempted be my light
May your word be my weapon
Draw me closer

Your will is good, perfect and pleasing
Help me to see where you have been faithful in the past
Help me to trust you for my future

God you are good
You love me completely
Help me to love others as You love me
Continue to grow me and challenge me

Amen

Some Ramblings and Thoughts

I have been having lots of great conversations lately. Hence all the extra blogging. This latest conversation was around the comments and shouting I get when walking the streets of Dhaka.
A lot of men in Dhaka believe that western women who are not married are like western women that they see on TV and in the movies. So when I am out walking the street I get yelled at a lot and mostof the time they are rather offensive comments.
As I came home after a particularly bad day of verbal abuse on the street I had a discussion with one of my friends. The conclusions for me were quite radical so I thought I would share.
Why is it that I get so riled up when people shout rude comments at me?
Is it because they aren't true? Possibly
But more likely it is my need and desire to be accepted in this society. And my desire to be seen as someone of good moral standing and a good representative of the Christian faith. And my pride.
What does my anger at being called a prostitute or loose women say about how I view woman who are working as prostitutes usually through circumstances beyond their control. This is a big question for me because when I am finished with full time language study I will be working and living in a red light district.
The conclusion I came to is that I need to be willing to be cast in the same light as those I will live and work alongside. I need to be willing to stand along side them as together we are rejected by society.
I need to care less of what or who others perceive me to be, and think more on who I am in Christ and who I am becoming in the light of his love and grace.
When I think of what Jesus was like on earth, He associated with the outcasts of society, and He was despised and rejected by many as a result.
I have a long way to go to battle my pride and need for acceptance but am glad of the refining that God continues to do in my life.
Blessings
Pip

A Poem I wrote

God you beauty inspires me
The freshness of rain
The sweet coolness refreshes
Cleanse me again as you do with the earth

The innocent squeals of delight
As a father and daughter hug so tight
Let me be as that daughter to You
Hugging so tight and squealing with delight

The dragonfly, the birds,
The sweet flower too
All of creation cries out to you
Let me praise you with the things that I do

Yet outside these walls are the lost lonely poor
Our rebellion caused them to hunger
And our greed keeps them there
Oh how your heart must break at the sight of your world

God I want to be like You
But I am so far away
Teach me Lord to give of myself

How do I respond to the hurt all around
Give me endurance to stay in the race
To put my pride on the ground
And to pick up your grace

Treause in unexpected places

I was on my way home with my friend the other day and we stopped into a posh(ish) bakery to buy a treat for some friends. As I was waiting outside I saw a family. Their job was to empty the rubbish bins from the shops along that street. Now this job is not like it would be in the west, no rubbish sacks neatly tied. Just rubbish in varying states of decomposition.
But did this family seem dejected at the menial work that had to do to eat each day, no. They had joy on their faces. They had scored the best street to collect rubbish. This was the street that the rich came to indulge themselves. As they emptied the rubbish bins they foraged as if they were looking for buried treasure. Amongst the flies and decomposing food they found treasures, the left over’s of the rich’s indulgence.
I watched the youngest boy. There was more of him in the rubbish bin than out. Finally he emerged holding triumphantly a half eaten biscuit. He didn’t notice the flies or the fact that it had been sitting in the bin for who knows how long. What he noticed was he got to eat and he was excited. He had a smile on his face from ear to ear. I wish you could have seen it.
I see this sort of thing every day multiple times a day. But this time I stopped to notice. It helped me to remember to take stock and look for the treasure, even when it seems like your rummaging through the rubbish bin.