The Chars and Harry Belafonte

Last weeks’ trip to the Chars was definitely the most anticipated. Since first learning about the Bangladesh Service Learning Experience I’ve heard amazing stories about the generosity of the people who live there, the curiosity of the children and the warm hospitality of the guests. I’ve also heard about the extremely limited menu, the intense sauna-oven heat and the large size of insects that attach themselves to your mosquito netting. Needless to say, I was equal parts excited, nervous, anxious and hopeful.

We arrived by large boat, chugging steadily through the water and maneuvering itself around the sandbars that constantly ebb and flow under the calm water. The Chars themselves are constantly changing with the water as well, sometimes being completely obliterated during the flood season. Our RDRS office on the Manushmara Char was no exception as it has been moved due to flooding the year before.

As soon as you step off the boat onto the ground you notice that the entire island is made from this silty sand that somehow grows luscious grasses, crops and trees. Abundant on the Chars are eucalytpis trees, which give off a nice herbal scent.

The unpredictability of the flooding Chars makes growing crops and owning land a serious issue among the residents. During one season families can lose their households, their land and their livelihoods. Because they are so poor, moving to the mainland of Bangladesh is not an option. RDRS developed the Chars Livelihood Project to combat these issues.

During our three days we first visited a women’s federation where the participants discussed the social issues on the Chars and where they select ultra poor village members to receive what aid they are able to give. The aid comes in the form of rice that the women distribute every month. While we were visiting the children decided to give us all mini makeovers: braiding Christine’s hair, adorning us with flowers and rubbing red flowers on our cheeks to make them look rosy. I also spotted a villager that had an uncanny resemblance to Willem Dafoe.

Our second visit was to a microcredit group, our last ever for BSLE 2010. The participants explained their loans were used to lease land and buy seeds or livestock. Some of the participants were already on their second loan, which means they repayed their first entirely and reinvested to grow their farms. We visited a few beneficiaries whose houses had been raised to avoid flooding and fruit trees provided for sustinence.

Our last stop was to a primary school. Education is another serious problem for the people of the Chars because the government doesn’t provide any formal education. It falls to the various NGO’s and villagers to provide informal education for the children and even then just by seeing the number of children not in school the situation becomes very telling.

For all the hardship that these people endure they were the kindest we’ve met (I didn’t think that was even possible). It was difficult for me to imagine them struggling for livelihoods when they are playing Frisbee with us and offering food from their garden. Eileen spent both nights with the villagers outside the RDRS office. At one point I looked out the window and saw that Eileen had inspired an impromptu concert , one to which I immediately joined. They took turns singing and we took turns dancing. Eileen’s irish dancing is adored by everyone in Bangladesh and she gets many requests. One of the older village women imitated Eileen and I’s dancing in hopes that we would join it. When the rest of the girls came to the concert the people talked (or motioned) us into performing a group dance, we decided on the Macarena. It was…interesting. That is all I’ll say about it.

Out of all the children on the Chars and in Bangladesh, one boy has won over my heart the most. Shajalal, or Sha as I call him is the brightest spirit. Developmentally challenged and of low vision he runs into the room and quickly finds your hand to hold. He is so tiny and finds joy in everything he does. Christine noted that this year it seemed that there was much more community support with Sha, letting him take part in the concert and including him in our games. He was the hardest child to say goodbye to.

The Chars also hosted THE BEST NIGHT EVER. At least that’s what I wrote in my journal that night. The staff decided to put on a cultural night for and spent most of the day playing up each others musical talents. The more riled up about it they got, the more name dropping we heard. Michael Jackson and Shakira were the most common. After it got dark we all piled into a small bedroom with the men on one side of the room sitting on the bed and us girls in chairs on the right side. The residents of the village quickly lined the windows to become our audience. The night started out innocently enough with some traditional Bangladeshi folk songs accompanied by musicians.

The second staff member decided to sing the first two lines of an English song he had learned many years ago. When he started singing I recognized the song immediately from my childhood. I was floored when out of his mouth, in one of the most isolated regions of Bangladesh came the music of a famous calypso singer that I grew up listening to. Mr. Harry Belafonte, my musical idol that my sister and I sang to, my mom sang to and my nana had a very intense crush on when she was my age. That moment was so special to me when I was able to write out and give Dr. Shadup the lyrics to “Kingston Town”. It was one of those funny moments when you know you are exactly where you are meant to be.

However after two songs came the dance showcase that will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. One of the younger staff members put on some sunglasses and began dancing to a famous Bangladeshi pop star. Most of the lyrics were in English and went along the same lines as many 90’s dance/love songs. His dancing looked like a a mix between a seizure and a man getting electrocuted. Christine also noted the high volume of thrusts going on. Because the room was so small we were only a foot away from this performance. There was no way to react except to try and cover our hysterical laughing with enthusiasm.

Regardless of what it may seem I’m not making fun of this guy or contemporary Bengali dance moves. It truly took talent what he did it was just very unexpected and in close proximity.

Later it was our turn to perform. The staff called Eileen “Madonna” after her turn, I’m not sure what they called Christine and I after we sang them a little Fresh Prince of Belair…

Finally when things really got going we put on some Micheal Jackson. EVERYONE WENT NUTS. The seizuring electrician began doing this crazy moon dancing, not moon walking but moon dancing. I would have given anything to have it on tape. Come to think of it we might.

That night seems so long ago now that we are back in Dhaka. Saying goodbye to Aslam, the guesthouse manager and Rangpur was harder than I thought it would be. Aslam went very philosophical talking about how we will all be together again by the forces of the world. He told us how his heart is strong now because goodbyes are so hard. My heart is definititely weak because as we pulled away it was too hard to even look back.

This experience has challenged me on every imaginable level. The people I’ve met here will stay with me forever and the stories I’ve heard have changed my views on humanity. I have so much more faith in the world from knowing what RDRS accomplishes and what they stand for. I am so grateful to the University and the staff there for letting me be part of this unique opportunity as my final experience as a student. I want to thank everyone for their support in this trip and myself in general.

I hope to write one more blog after I return to Winnipeg because there is no way that I have wrapped things up here. Also just a reminder that due to political reasons facebook has been banned in Bangladesh temporarily, so anyone attempting to contact me this way will find a dead end. However I’ll be in Hong Kong in two days so I can answer then!

Sincerely,

Celia