God, I haven't posted in a long time. A long time. But now I'm going to start up again, right on the eve of the next great trip of my life to South America for the semester.
But tonight, I wanted to share with you--and rationalize to myself--an real-life slice of my complicated relationship with my mother. I love my mother, and I think she's just the best. She's smart, witty, rational, loving, and understanding. But at other times, she acts as if she fundamentally doesn't trust me to be an adult, and often accuses me of only thinking about myself. Essentially, I fear she believes me to be quite arrogant, self-centered, patronizing, immature, and hypocritical. Of course, some of those things might be true at times (as they are for most people), but the tone, rationale, and frequency of her claims hurts me deeply.
Today, I went to CVS to pick up some toiletries for my upcoming trip. She gave me a coupon to save $10, on a purchase that was likely to be around $100 (it was $80, because I purposefully tried to reduce what I was buying to save money). I was so focused in the store on getting the right things and maximizing the efficiency of my purchases, in addition to talking to a friend and submitting a prescription, that I forgot about the coupon until I was on my way home. I felt bad, but I thought my mother would understand. It was only $10.
Well, the way she reacted, you'd think that our family was $10 away from insolvency, homelessness, and destitution. She freaked out after I told her "I forgot" (choice words on my part), lecturing me about the state of the economy--as if, after spending hours a day reading the news, I didn't know what was going on. In a double whammy, she patronizingly and insulting told me I'm a materialistic, narcissistic child who isn't respectful of our family needs (which she hadn't previously discussed with me), but also that my interests in politics and airlines pale are unimportant and, thus, also self-interested passions. She went on and on about how "you talk so much about how Michelle Obama is pretty and how Sarah Palin was a good choice--well, who fucking cares--get a grip. It's always me me me me me."
On and on she went, with a bitingly nasty tone that, after years of absorbing it, still takes time to shake off. All the way to the CVS, where she met with the manager and got the $10 our struggling upper class family so desperately needs.
My mother has become a real worrier, thinking 20 steps ahead of the curve. Instead of spending a bit of extra money on a new shirt, she'll rationalize that such money will put us behind for years, preventing us from going on vacation and buying food and sending my brother to college and retiring to the Hamptons. I just want to scream, "Mom, you get a grip! And stop treating me with such condescension and negativity."
I am an adult, and I strive to be compassionate, thoughtful, helpful, and responsible in all that I do. But I will be the first to admit that I make many mistakes, some of which I believe to be as innocent as forgetting the coupon on a busy afternoon. And I want my dearest mother to understand that I'm an adult now, and that as such, I deserve to be treated like one.
You did a good job raising me. Now, Mom, let me go.
Destination: Dhaka, Bangladesh
The most densely populated city in the world, Dhaka is known for its tremendous traffic, muggy weather, and great food, all on display here.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Pictures Galore!
For everyone's knowledge, I post my pictures at picasaweb.google.com/adamnathan. I update them every few days, so be sure to check it out!
Also, take a look at our group blog: durham2dhaka.blogspot.com. It includes entries each day from each DukeEngage group member. Our group photo site is picasaweb.google.com/dukebrac--we'll all add our pictures sooner or later.
Happy viewing!
Also, take a look at our group blog: durham2dhaka.blogspot.com. It includes entries each day from each DukeEngage group member. Our group photo site is picasaweb.google.com/dukebrac--we'll all add our pictures sooner or later.
Happy viewing!
A Great Friday
Today was awesome.
We started out the morning with a 90 minute sleep-in, which was very luxurious. The night before, I talked for hours about DUU, Lauren Maisel, Katelyn, DSG, and all the rest. It was a good time, but I ended up going to sleep late.
I took a shower in the nice bathroom again, with no flies and a working drain. In America, we take such conveniences for granted, but here in the Niketun TARC, I am learning to appreciate everything.
Breakfast was delicious. Julie and Alyssa joined the group—they are two interns, from the University of Pennsylvania and Middlebury College, respectively—and they are working with BRAC this summer in different areas. During the meal, we had meeting with Rachael, where she told us that my topic, microfinance, would be the first to go out in the field. We were happy, because we feel the most ready about our topic, and we think it would be a good starting point for our documentary work at BRAC.
We went downstairs to Rachael’s floor to get on the internet, since the 19th floor was supposedly not open. The BRAC Inn lobby areas are incredibly hot, and the internet is horrible. I really wanted to get online to update by entry for the group blog, and also talk to mom and dad before I we leave for Mymensingh tomorrow. But the internet kept failing us, save Sam and Rob, with their stupid black iMacs. Scott and Eric left for the 19th floor, where they planned to sit in the stairwell, even though the door to the offices was (supposedly) bolted. Everyone but me, Rob, and Sam soon after trickled upstairs, and for thirty minutes, I sat in the steaming lobby internet-less, fuming over the heat and the lack of productivity.
Eventually, I decided to go upstairs, and then realized that everyone was in the air-conditioned, wireless conference room. They didn’t feel it necessary to tell us that it was open, so I was quite pissed. Shana told me that I “seem to get upset at small things,” which really confused and upset me. She was really nice to me the whole day, so that was a great reprieve from the morning’s unpleansantries.
We went back to New Market in the morning while the van driver went to mosque. Instead of venturing more around the market, we went into the city. It’s so hard to capture the sheer density of the place. The crowds of people, items, colors, clothes, cars, rickshaws, noises, sounds, and basic livelihood is impossible to understand unless you are part of it. And let me tell you, simply, that it’s unbelievably overwhelming.
We went into a bakery on New Elephant Road and tried some of the treats. Most were very sugary and fried, some flavored by pistachio, others honey. It was nice to get out of the BRAC Centre restaurant and try some local flair, though. We later took rickshaws back to the market, which is always fun. They are by far the best means of transportation around this city. As Pushpita suggested, the government should just get rid of cars and make everyone travel by rickshaws.
We went to lunch at El Toro, the only Mexican restaurant in Bangladesh and the “best” according to Lonely Planet. It was a lot of fun. The food was great, though Bangladeshi-flavored. Most surprising was the Chili con Queso, which was disgusting and served with a small pile of stale-tasting Chinese-noodle-flavored chips. My meal, the “Mexican Flag,” was good, and the conversation with Scott and the group was interesting.
Peter is turning out to be a very dynamic and cool person. I didn’t know what to expect at first—nothing bad, of course, but I saw him as more one-dimensional than he is. He’s not your typical Sigma Nu brother. He’s into English, has lots of emotions, and is an independent thinker. Plus, he genuinely cares about others, and this project, and his interests. That’s not to say that he doesn’t know how to have a good time. He’s very funny and is obsessed with Germany, particularly their football team. But still, he’s always a pleasure to be around.
We then went to Aarong. We surprised the rest of our walking group (the girls) by taking rickshaws the half-mile to the store from the restaurant. I sat with Eric, and still did not know what to say.
I bought some lungis in Aarong, one of which I am wearing right now. They are basically beautifully-patterned (plaid, checkers, brown, purple, blue, basically) cotton sheets that you wrap around your waist like pajamas. You can also turn them into pants by pulling the material up around your back side and tucking it in. They are pretty funny looking, but they are really breezy and quite comfortable, and I can’t wait to wear them every day.
We then went for what was the highlight of the day: the soccer game. I was a bit nervous, since I’m pretty bad at most team sports and I didn’t want to make myself look like a fool in front of my peers. We stopped at a small, muddy park with not many people, save for the goats and cows wandering around. We protested, saying the park was too small and too wet for a proper match, but we ended up playing anyways.
We invited some local Bangladeshi boys to play in the game, and they had no problem getting down and dirty real fast. By the end of the game, I was covered in mud and probably cow shit. It was tons of fun though, and at some point, I stopped caring about the dirt and focused on the play. It was impossibly hot, even in the evening, and I felt at times like I was going to pass out. Scott and Rob dominated the game, with Michela, Eric, and even me helping out. The Bangladeshi boys were quick and very aggressive. One in particular, wearing a collared black shirt, would kick the ball so far every time, despite the fact that there was only 100 feet between the goals and no play in our game would ever need that hard of a kick. Then, another Bangladeshi boy would run through the mud and shit to get it, and the process would start all over again. Our goalie, a Bangladeshi boy, had a technique of screaming like a Kamikazee pilot every time he kicked it. The game was a ton of fun, and we were extremely sweaty and muddy by the time the sun set.
The cold shower never felt so good, and I changed in a hurry pending Shana’s request. It was the first time, though, that I went straight under the tap, instead of warily and coldly putting different parts of my body underneath for quick seconds.
We went to dinner at a Thai/Chinese/Sezchuan restaurant, and I had some delicious, spicy beef. Since there is no pig served in Bangladeshi, we also all enjoyed spring rolls and chicken wontons. I had a great conversation with Ed, basically about Peru, and Shana and I also joked around. Scott and Rob were pretty obsessed with the soccer on the TV, so the coordinators were my main entertainment.
For the second time today, we were close to Tk 1000 short on the bill. I helped make up the difference, but I’ve spent close to $200 dollars in two weeks here—kind of a hefty sum considering what we’ve done and how little I’ve purchased.
I’m exhausted tonight, but I packed up for our trip tomorrow and watched some soccer with our friends and the boys downstairs—Romania tied with Italy, and the former world champions might be pushed out of the tournament. Though I thought Italy did a good job, Peter was upset that Romania couldn’t close the deal. He roots for the underdog often.
I’m excited for the trip tomorrow. I think the group dynamic will change again in the field, and I’m excited to learn more about the group. I hope I get to talk to mom and dad often, and I think the GLI in July will be a lot of fun (just got my flights today!). Anyhow, this is me, signing off for the night.
After a long week, things turned out alright. Me and Scott are steadily improving our relationship, Rob is cool, the rest of the group (save John and maybe Eric) are good-spirited and kind, and I really like working with BRAC. Plus, I really can’t wait to go out into the field and interview people! Anyhow, if you are reading this sometime in the future, know that on June 13th, you were happy and optimistic, and didn’t know what the future would bring. I hope it turns out well.
Best,
Adam
We started out the morning with a 90 minute sleep-in, which was very luxurious. The night before, I talked for hours about DUU, Lauren Maisel, Katelyn, DSG, and all the rest. It was a good time, but I ended up going to sleep late.
I took a shower in the nice bathroom again, with no flies and a working drain. In America, we take such conveniences for granted, but here in the Niketun TARC, I am learning to appreciate everything.
Breakfast was delicious. Julie and Alyssa joined the group—they are two interns, from the University of Pennsylvania and Middlebury College, respectively—and they are working with BRAC this summer in different areas. During the meal, we had meeting with Rachael, where she told us that my topic, microfinance, would be the first to go out in the field. We were happy, because we feel the most ready about our topic, and we think it would be a good starting point for our documentary work at BRAC.
We went downstairs to Rachael’s floor to get on the internet, since the 19th floor was supposedly not open. The BRAC Inn lobby areas are incredibly hot, and the internet is horrible. I really wanted to get online to update by entry for the group blog, and also talk to mom and dad before I we leave for Mymensingh tomorrow. But the internet kept failing us, save Sam and Rob, with their stupid black iMacs. Scott and Eric left for the 19th floor, where they planned to sit in the stairwell, even though the door to the offices was (supposedly) bolted. Everyone but me, Rob, and Sam soon after trickled upstairs, and for thirty minutes, I sat in the steaming lobby internet-less, fuming over the heat and the lack of productivity.
Eventually, I decided to go upstairs, and then realized that everyone was in the air-conditioned, wireless conference room. They didn’t feel it necessary to tell us that it was open, so I was quite pissed. Shana told me that I “seem to get upset at small things,” which really confused and upset me. She was really nice to me the whole day, so that was a great reprieve from the morning’s unpleansantries.
We went back to New Market in the morning while the van driver went to mosque. Instead of venturing more around the market, we went into the city. It’s so hard to capture the sheer density of the place. The crowds of people, items, colors, clothes, cars, rickshaws, noises, sounds, and basic livelihood is impossible to understand unless you are part of it. And let me tell you, simply, that it’s unbelievably overwhelming.
We went into a bakery on New Elephant Road and tried some of the treats. Most were very sugary and fried, some flavored by pistachio, others honey. It was nice to get out of the BRAC Centre restaurant and try some local flair, though. We later took rickshaws back to the market, which is always fun. They are by far the best means of transportation around this city. As Pushpita suggested, the government should just get rid of cars and make everyone travel by rickshaws.
We went to lunch at El Toro, the only Mexican restaurant in Bangladesh and the “best” according to Lonely Planet. It was a lot of fun. The food was great, though Bangladeshi-flavored. Most surprising was the Chili con Queso, which was disgusting and served with a small pile of stale-tasting Chinese-noodle-flavored chips. My meal, the “Mexican Flag,” was good, and the conversation with Scott and the group was interesting.
Peter is turning out to be a very dynamic and cool person. I didn’t know what to expect at first—nothing bad, of course, but I saw him as more one-dimensional than he is. He’s not your typical Sigma Nu brother. He’s into English, has lots of emotions, and is an independent thinker. Plus, he genuinely cares about others, and this project, and his interests. That’s not to say that he doesn’t know how to have a good time. He’s very funny and is obsessed with Germany, particularly their football team. But still, he’s always a pleasure to be around.
We then went to Aarong. We surprised the rest of our walking group (the girls) by taking rickshaws the half-mile to the store from the restaurant. I sat with Eric, and still did not know what to say.
I bought some lungis in Aarong, one of which I am wearing right now. They are basically beautifully-patterned (plaid, checkers, brown, purple, blue, basically) cotton sheets that you wrap around your waist like pajamas. You can also turn them into pants by pulling the material up around your back side and tucking it in. They are pretty funny looking, but they are really breezy and quite comfortable, and I can’t wait to wear them every day.
We then went for what was the highlight of the day: the soccer game. I was a bit nervous, since I’m pretty bad at most team sports and I didn’t want to make myself look like a fool in front of my peers. We stopped at a small, muddy park with not many people, save for the goats and cows wandering around. We protested, saying the park was too small and too wet for a proper match, but we ended up playing anyways.
We invited some local Bangladeshi boys to play in the game, and they had no problem getting down and dirty real fast. By the end of the game, I was covered in mud and probably cow shit. It was tons of fun though, and at some point, I stopped caring about the dirt and focused on the play. It was impossibly hot, even in the evening, and I felt at times like I was going to pass out. Scott and Rob dominated the game, with Michela, Eric, and even me helping out. The Bangladeshi boys were quick and very aggressive. One in particular, wearing a collared black shirt, would kick the ball so far every time, despite the fact that there was only 100 feet between the goals and no play in our game would ever need that hard of a kick. Then, another Bangladeshi boy would run through the mud and shit to get it, and the process would start all over again. Our goalie, a Bangladeshi boy, had a technique of screaming like a Kamikazee pilot every time he kicked it. The game was a ton of fun, and we were extremely sweaty and muddy by the time the sun set.
The cold shower never felt so good, and I changed in a hurry pending Shana’s request. It was the first time, though, that I went straight under the tap, instead of warily and coldly putting different parts of my body underneath for quick seconds.
We went to dinner at a Thai/Chinese/Sezchuan restaurant, and I had some delicious, spicy beef. Since there is no pig served in Bangladeshi, we also all enjoyed spring rolls and chicken wontons. I had a great conversation with Ed, basically about Peru, and Shana and I also joked around. Scott and Rob were pretty obsessed with the soccer on the TV, so the coordinators were my main entertainment.
For the second time today, we were close to Tk 1000 short on the bill. I helped make up the difference, but I’ve spent close to $200 dollars in two weeks here—kind of a hefty sum considering what we’ve done and how little I’ve purchased.
I’m exhausted tonight, but I packed up for our trip tomorrow and watched some soccer with our friends and the boys downstairs—Romania tied with Italy, and the former world champions might be pushed out of the tournament. Though I thought Italy did a good job, Peter was upset that Romania couldn’t close the deal. He roots for the underdog often.
I’m excited for the trip tomorrow. I think the group dynamic will change again in the field, and I’m excited to learn more about the group. I hope I get to talk to mom and dad often, and I think the GLI in July will be a lot of fun (just got my flights today!). Anyhow, this is me, signing off for the night.
After a long week, things turned out alright. Me and Scott are steadily improving our relationship, Rob is cool, the rest of the group (save John and maybe Eric) are good-spirited and kind, and I really like working with BRAC. Plus, I really can’t wait to go out into the field and interview people! Anyhow, if you are reading this sometime in the future, know that on June 13th, you were happy and optimistic, and didn’t know what the future would bring. I hope it turns out well.
Best,
Adam
It's Been A Hard Day's Night, and I've Been Working Like A Dog
Yesterday was, by all accounts, not the best or brightest day we’ve had here in Dhaka. As we gathered in the area outside our rooms that morning to depart for the BRAC Centre, a strange silence permeated throughout the group. Everyone was exhausted—the night before was full of socializing with the local kids in the TARC (Training and Resource Center) and flicking little wooden pucks in this immensely popular Bangladeshi game called Grambun. We went to sleep late, and by Wednesday, the cumulative effect of hard days and long nights started to impact our attitudes.
The breakfast was full of spicy local flair: curry-flavored hash brown-like potatoes, which we wrap in chapatti (dense fried triangular dough) with fried eggs and fruit on the side. We definitely needed the sustenance, and the tea and coffee were welcome additions for our tired group.
The week had been full of executive meetings, where our group of Dukies met with the program heads of the various BRAC divisions. We were incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to talk with many of BRAC’s most senior members, many whom are also highly respected scholars and practitioners in their respective fields. Wednesday continued to be full of such discussions. While all interesting, the conferences vary greatly: some inspiring, others considerably less so. Unfortunately, Wednesday was full of the latter.
The morning started off with a meeting with the BRAC Health Programme, which does amazing world in ensuring the physical and medical livelihood of millions of people across Bangladesh. The meeting was full of statistics and facts about BRAC’s record of achievement. By the end, our brains were bursting with information overload, though we did have a thorough understanding of BRAC’s amazing medical services for the poor.
We were then to meet with the head of BRAC’s agriculture division, who is highly regarded around the world for his work on farming, cultivation, and livestock advances. He was going to talk with us in the TARC, where we live, so we all crowded into a van and made the ten minute drive over the our place of stay. However, he was a no show—he had another meeting and was forced to cancel our appointment. So, after milling around while Rachael (our BRAC supervisor) and Shana tried to figure out what was going on, we got back into the vans and went to the BRAC Centre for another conference with BRAC environment staff.
The environment meeting was especially exciting for me, because it was the first meeting on one of my topic areas. Rob and I, who are responsible for the environment programmes as well as BRAC’s signature microfinance division, were looking forward to the meeting, but in retrospect, we should have known better.
The thing is, BRAC doesn’t have an environment programme. They have a few projects, but as we were told in the meeting again and again, BRAC’s commitment is to “alleviating poverty and helping the poor.” If some project also helps the environment in the process of achieving this goal, then BRAC thinks that’s great. But the environment, simply put, is not a priority for this organization.
The meeting turned out to be hilariously unproductive. We were interviewing two members who work on the “environment programmes” (despite the fact there is no programme) in BRAC’s research and evaluation meeting, who started off by telling us that “We are pretty low on the food chain here at BRAC, so we really don’t know what’s going on.” We knew then we were in for a good time.
We also interviewed the head of BRAC’s (for-profit) Solar Panels Project, which has built over two million such devices across the country. His deep knowledge was about the project was very helpful, until he spent twenty minutes telling us in minute detail how the solar panels work. When we asked him about the future of BRAC’s environment programme, he and the others responded, “There is no future.” Everyone tried to stifle a laugh, but the meeting was, to say the least, not very helpful in our information-gathering pursuits.
That afternoon, we met with the BRAC’s education programme. Despite having a packed room of experts, the education officials seemed to not want to answer the questions. When Heather or Anne, who are focusing on education, asked a question, the officials would start to banter. “You should answer the question.” “No, you should, you’re the director.” “No, it’s your responsibility, you have to.” And so it would go, for every query we had. Needless to say, the meeting was not everything we had hoped for.
After our meetings, all of us Duke students met to discuss the website content. We had earlier decided to structure our work into “features:” innovative, multimedia presentations of BRAC’s structure, operations, history, and impact based around cohesive themes. For example, the unique elements of BRAC are showcased in a feature called “The BRAC signature,” the personal effect of BRAC’s work is illustrated in a feature called “Impact in Action.” That process of choosing out features was fairly smooth and congenial. But the next task we had was not as easy.
We tried to make a “coordination guide,” to get everyone in the group on the same page about what exactly the features would contain, how they would be written, and in what media format they would be presented. It was tough work: after a long day, nobody really wanted to think about small details necessary to complete the guide. However, we prevailed, and at the end, everyone was very happy with the work we produced.
After a long day of meetings and an even harder group project after that, we went back to the TARC, ready to relax a bit and prepare for another day at BRAC. We knew it couldn’t get more demanding than Wednesday, though, and we made it through fine, stronger and smarter than we started. And for that, at least, we were thankful.
Then, it was time to sleep it all off.
The breakfast was full of spicy local flair: curry-flavored hash brown-like potatoes, which we wrap in chapatti (dense fried triangular dough) with fried eggs and fruit on the side. We definitely needed the sustenance, and the tea and coffee were welcome additions for our tired group.
The week had been full of executive meetings, where our group of Dukies met with the program heads of the various BRAC divisions. We were incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to talk with many of BRAC’s most senior members, many whom are also highly respected scholars and practitioners in their respective fields. Wednesday continued to be full of such discussions. While all interesting, the conferences vary greatly: some inspiring, others considerably less so. Unfortunately, Wednesday was full of the latter.
The morning started off with a meeting with the BRAC Health Programme, which does amazing world in ensuring the physical and medical livelihood of millions of people across Bangladesh. The meeting was full of statistics and facts about BRAC’s record of achievement. By the end, our brains were bursting with information overload, though we did have a thorough understanding of BRAC’s amazing medical services for the poor.
We were then to meet with the head of BRAC’s agriculture division, who is highly regarded around the world for his work on farming, cultivation, and livestock advances. He was going to talk with us in the TARC, where we live, so we all crowded into a van and made the ten minute drive over the our place of stay. However, he was a no show—he had another meeting and was forced to cancel our appointment. So, after milling around while Rachael (our BRAC supervisor) and Shana tried to figure out what was going on, we got back into the vans and went to the BRAC Centre for another conference with BRAC environment staff.
The environment meeting was especially exciting for me, because it was the first meeting on one of my topic areas. Rob and I, who are responsible for the environment programmes as well as BRAC’s signature microfinance division, were looking forward to the meeting, but in retrospect, we should have known better.
The thing is, BRAC doesn’t have an environment programme. They have a few projects, but as we were told in the meeting again and again, BRAC’s commitment is to “alleviating poverty and helping the poor.” If some project also helps the environment in the process of achieving this goal, then BRAC thinks that’s great. But the environment, simply put, is not a priority for this organization.
The meeting turned out to be hilariously unproductive. We were interviewing two members who work on the “environment programmes” (despite the fact there is no programme) in BRAC’s research and evaluation meeting, who started off by telling us that “We are pretty low on the food chain here at BRAC, so we really don’t know what’s going on.” We knew then we were in for a good time.
We also interviewed the head of BRAC’s (for-profit) Solar Panels Project, which has built over two million such devices across the country. His deep knowledge was about the project was very helpful, until he spent twenty minutes telling us in minute detail how the solar panels work. When we asked him about the future of BRAC’s environment programme, he and the others responded, “There is no future.” Everyone tried to stifle a laugh, but the meeting was, to say the least, not very helpful in our information-gathering pursuits.
That afternoon, we met with the BRAC’s education programme. Despite having a packed room of experts, the education officials seemed to not want to answer the questions. When Heather or Anne, who are focusing on education, asked a question, the officials would start to banter. “You should answer the question.” “No, you should, you’re the director.” “No, it’s your responsibility, you have to.” And so it would go, for every query we had. Needless to say, the meeting was not everything we had hoped for.
After our meetings, all of us Duke students met to discuss the website content. We had earlier decided to structure our work into “features:” innovative, multimedia presentations of BRAC’s structure, operations, history, and impact based around cohesive themes. For example, the unique elements of BRAC are showcased in a feature called “The BRAC signature,” the personal effect of BRAC’s work is illustrated in a feature called “Impact in Action.” That process of choosing out features was fairly smooth and congenial. But the next task we had was not as easy.
We tried to make a “coordination guide,” to get everyone in the group on the same page about what exactly the features would contain, how they would be written, and in what media format they would be presented. It was tough work: after a long day, nobody really wanted to think about small details necessary to complete the guide. However, we prevailed, and at the end, everyone was very happy with the work we produced.
After a long day of meetings and an even harder group project after that, we went back to the TARC, ready to relax a bit and prepare for another day at BRAC. We knew it couldn’t get more demanding than Wednesday, though, and we made it through fine, stronger and smarter than we started. And for that, at least, we were thankful.
Then, it was time to sleep it all off.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Asalum Walekum, Bangladesh
This update is more of a digest, because so much has happened over the past few days and I’ve been so bad about writing it all down. It’s been a constant whir of sights, experiences, thoughts, and feeling. But here goes nothing.
I’m finding Dhaka to be an amazing city. At first, it looks like most major metropolises in the developing world: crowded, dirty, rotting at the fringes and busting at the seams. The roads are caked with dirt, the traffic signals are not heeded, and there are billboards everywhere. Outside my window is an endless sea of half-finished apartment buildings, the steel reinforcement still prodding up the top and the brick walls only half finished.
But Dhaka continues to surprise. It’s actually quite an advanced city. The shopping malls are beautiful, the parks are lovely, and there are great cultural opportunities. The cultural schism takes a while to get used to, but once you start to familiarize yourself with the culture and people of Bangladesh, the city and country are at once charming and civil. I’m very much falling in love with it.
And the people! Oh, the Bangladeshi people are so curious. I mean that literally and figuratively. Friday was first introduction to the real Dhaka—basically, everything not on the 19th floor of the super-modern BRAC Centre. We played soccer with students in a park, for no more than ten minutes—it was close to 100F outside and humid as anything, so any more physical exertion would have caused us to collapse in complete exhaustion. Inside the park (where they don’t cut the grass—dad would go crazy), there was a beautiful Hindu temple. It looked like a castle at a carnival, with purple and white flying plastic stripes making up the walls. It too, was a little past its prime, with leaves clouding the metal joints and dirty chairs sadly scattered around the tent. I learned, thanks to Galiba, about the different Hindu prophets—one for success in studies, one in business, and one large idol to ensure the destruction of evil and success of good.
It was in the park that the crowds started. Bangladeshi people are very intrigued, almost obsessed with white people. There aren’t many here, and so any sign of a Caucasian draws large crowds and deep stares. The crowds continued all day—through Dhaka University, with its beautiful buildings and serene grounds, to the pottery market outside, where a literal mob surrounded us and forced the group to rush into the vans. One poor girl, Rachael, was wearing a low cut yellow shirt, and she alone attracted around 100 Bangladeshi men around her wherever she went.
At the market, we saw a parade coming down the street, and police trucks blocking its way right across the intersection from where we stood. Considering the dangerous political climate, with the government arresting 22,000 people in the past two weeks, I became quite nervous. Galiba told me that the protest was actually a celebration, for a Hindu holiday which put unity over division, so the police were actually ensuring the march’s free path. However, it was a scary situation that highlighted the tense political climate that has gripped most of the country.
We also went to the Language Monument, which honors the thousands of Bangladeshis who died to protect the Bangla language when the Pakistani government tried to abolish it in the 1960s. The country used to be called East Pakistan, and right before its independence, Pakistan tightened its control on the nation, mandating total cultural compliance with Pakistani norms. The students of Dhaka University wouldn’t have it, though, and ended up dying for the culture that millions now proudly flaunt as singularly theirs. On the memorial grounds, there were some children playing cricket, a fascinating sport to watch and learn about. Sam, my roommate and a native Kiwi, taught us how to play, and even had a round of bowling himself. It was great to watch, and I hope I can try the game out soon for myself.
After, we went to the University mosque. As Fridays are the Islamic day of rest, Korshid and our drivers needed to attend the midday prayer. I didn’t go inside the mosque (and the group who wanted to eventually did not either), so I sat outside and ate my boxed lunch with Rachael. We had a great conversation about the merits and disadvantages of the Millennium Village Project, and then she scared the shit out of me expounding on the consequences of Dengue fever. There apparently is no medical remedy or prevention for it, and it causes brain damage, muscle immobilization, and deathly high fevers. However, with proper fluids, I could live it out, she told me—but still, I hope to avoid such a situation during my time here.
Afterwards, we went to a really swanky restaurant, Voot, for tea. The situation which brought us there was quite funny—Shana, our leader, needed to go to the bathroom, and we didn’t want to just pee without buying anything. So what was a guilt trip ended up as a full-fledged meal, with fancy desserts, drinks, and appetizers served in the classiest of settings. It was bit weird for us, clad in sweaty, dirty clothes, but a nice experience nonetheless.
Afterwards, we traveled into downtown Dhaka. I had a rather unsavory conversation with Scott about politics, one of my many frustrating encounters with him over the weekend, but we made it through the pouring rain to Old Dhaka, which is a sight I cannot really describe in this short space. The streets are narrow, connected by crooked telephone poles and overshadowed by staggered balconies. The streets are crowded and vibrant, with all kinds of strange and wonderful activities taking place on corners, in shops, and throughout the alleys. We went to a large pink temple on the banks of the river, which was a beautiful English Tea Company mansion which later served the Bangladeshi royals. However, the most notable part of the visit was not the house, but rather the massive crowds that started to form around us as we traveled through it. The Bangladeshis followed us as we walked through the gardens, leading to a group of around 200—literally—people forming a semicircle around our small group of bewildered white Westerners. It’s the closest to celebrity I’ll ever get.
Afterwards, we went to the Bangladeshi parliament building, a wonderful architectural masterpiece by Louis E. Kahn. It’s solid concrete, with large triangular windows showing inner courtyards. Wonderful postmodern grounds surround the building, and we attracted crowds wherever we went. I actually stood in the crowd of Bangladeshis, pretending I was one of them staring at the group—it was a great picture. Later, everyone did that, spreading into the massive 300 person crowd around us on the steps of the reflecting pond, a classic shot that I’m sure will illustrate our strange relationship with the Bangladeshi people.
The day was a classic encounter with Bangladeshi life of all forms and I can’t wait to experience more street life in the future.
The next day, we went shopping, which really meant seeing the way Bangladeshis live in all forms. We started the morning at a gleaming supermall in a beautiful section of town. We visited a cheap DVD store, where they sold the latest movies (Sex and the City, still in theatres, and Iron Man, for example) for only Tk 85—a little more than one American dollar. I was going to buy all the seasons of Lost for about $4, but I ended up with five of my favorite movies.
Afterwards, we headed over to New Market, an expansive outdoor bazaar with everything on the face of the earth. The highlights: the endless rows of similarly looking jeans and shirts, each a little bit off on the fashion side of things. Also, the fish market, where I got blood on my shirt as a worker skinned and sliced a live fish—I could see its heart beating right before he cut off the head. It was an intense, disgusting experience, and I won’t be eating fish for a while. But it was awesome!
Then we went to aarong, one of BRAC’s social enterprises. It’s a high-end retail store in Bangladesh, with super nice clothing and house ware made by BRAC employees throughout Bangladesh. It’s an amazing social venture, because it provides a job, a living wage, and lots of benefits to women who were unempowered and unemployed. It’s an amazing concept, but the merchandise is amazing as well—and so cheap! I almost bought a Punjabi, but I thought I looked ridiculous. I settled for sandals instead. We ended the day at a high-end boutique in Gulshan, by our house. Everything was so high quality, but ridiculously cheap. I got a great wallet, along with some gifts for home. It was another amazing day, and I look forward to tomorrow.
I’m finding Dhaka to be an amazing city. At first, it looks like most major metropolises in the developing world: crowded, dirty, rotting at the fringes and busting at the seams. The roads are caked with dirt, the traffic signals are not heeded, and there are billboards everywhere. Outside my window is an endless sea of half-finished apartment buildings, the steel reinforcement still prodding up the top and the brick walls only half finished.
But Dhaka continues to surprise. It’s actually quite an advanced city. The shopping malls are beautiful, the parks are lovely, and there are great cultural opportunities. The cultural schism takes a while to get used to, but once you start to familiarize yourself with the culture and people of Bangladesh, the city and country are at once charming and civil. I’m very much falling in love with it.
And the people! Oh, the Bangladeshi people are so curious. I mean that literally and figuratively. Friday was first introduction to the real Dhaka—basically, everything not on the 19th floor of the super-modern BRAC Centre. We played soccer with students in a park, for no more than ten minutes—it was close to 100F outside and humid as anything, so any more physical exertion would have caused us to collapse in complete exhaustion. Inside the park (where they don’t cut the grass—dad would go crazy), there was a beautiful Hindu temple. It looked like a castle at a carnival, with purple and white flying plastic stripes making up the walls. It too, was a little past its prime, with leaves clouding the metal joints and dirty chairs sadly scattered around the tent. I learned, thanks to Galiba, about the different Hindu prophets—one for success in studies, one in business, and one large idol to ensure the destruction of evil and success of good.
It was in the park that the crowds started. Bangladeshi people are very intrigued, almost obsessed with white people. There aren’t many here, and so any sign of a Caucasian draws large crowds and deep stares. The crowds continued all day—through Dhaka University, with its beautiful buildings and serene grounds, to the pottery market outside, where a literal mob surrounded us and forced the group to rush into the vans. One poor girl, Rachael, was wearing a low cut yellow shirt, and she alone attracted around 100 Bangladeshi men around her wherever she went.
At the market, we saw a parade coming down the street, and police trucks blocking its way right across the intersection from where we stood. Considering the dangerous political climate, with the government arresting 22,000 people in the past two weeks, I became quite nervous. Galiba told me that the protest was actually a celebration, for a Hindu holiday which put unity over division, so the police were actually ensuring the march’s free path. However, it was a scary situation that highlighted the tense political climate that has gripped most of the country.
We also went to the Language Monument, which honors the thousands of Bangladeshis who died to protect the Bangla language when the Pakistani government tried to abolish it in the 1960s. The country used to be called East Pakistan, and right before its independence, Pakistan tightened its control on the nation, mandating total cultural compliance with Pakistani norms. The students of Dhaka University wouldn’t have it, though, and ended up dying for the culture that millions now proudly flaunt as singularly theirs. On the memorial grounds, there were some children playing cricket, a fascinating sport to watch and learn about. Sam, my roommate and a native Kiwi, taught us how to play, and even had a round of bowling himself. It was great to watch, and I hope I can try the game out soon for myself.
After, we went to the University mosque. As Fridays are the Islamic day of rest, Korshid and our drivers needed to attend the midday prayer. I didn’t go inside the mosque (and the group who wanted to eventually did not either), so I sat outside and ate my boxed lunch with Rachael. We had a great conversation about the merits and disadvantages of the Millennium Village Project, and then she scared the shit out of me expounding on the consequences of Dengue fever. There apparently is no medical remedy or prevention for it, and it causes brain damage, muscle immobilization, and deathly high fevers. However, with proper fluids, I could live it out, she told me—but still, I hope to avoid such a situation during my time here.
Afterwards, we went to a really swanky restaurant, Voot, for tea. The situation which brought us there was quite funny—Shana, our leader, needed to go to the bathroom, and we didn’t want to just pee without buying anything. So what was a guilt trip ended up as a full-fledged meal, with fancy desserts, drinks, and appetizers served in the classiest of settings. It was bit weird for us, clad in sweaty, dirty clothes, but a nice experience nonetheless.
Afterwards, we traveled into downtown Dhaka. I had a rather unsavory conversation with Scott about politics, one of my many frustrating encounters with him over the weekend, but we made it through the pouring rain to Old Dhaka, which is a sight I cannot really describe in this short space. The streets are narrow, connected by crooked telephone poles and overshadowed by staggered balconies. The streets are crowded and vibrant, with all kinds of strange and wonderful activities taking place on corners, in shops, and throughout the alleys. We went to a large pink temple on the banks of the river, which was a beautiful English Tea Company mansion which later served the Bangladeshi royals. However, the most notable part of the visit was not the house, but rather the massive crowds that started to form around us as we traveled through it. The Bangladeshis followed us as we walked through the gardens, leading to a group of around 200—literally—people forming a semicircle around our small group of bewildered white Westerners. It’s the closest to celebrity I’ll ever get.
Afterwards, we went to the Bangladeshi parliament building, a wonderful architectural masterpiece by Louis E. Kahn. It’s solid concrete, with large triangular windows showing inner courtyards. Wonderful postmodern grounds surround the building, and we attracted crowds wherever we went. I actually stood in the crowd of Bangladeshis, pretending I was one of them staring at the group—it was a great picture. Later, everyone did that, spreading into the massive 300 person crowd around us on the steps of the reflecting pond, a classic shot that I’m sure will illustrate our strange relationship with the Bangladeshi people.
The day was a classic encounter with Bangladeshi life of all forms and I can’t wait to experience more street life in the future.
The next day, we went shopping, which really meant seeing the way Bangladeshis live in all forms. We started the morning at a gleaming supermall in a beautiful section of town. We visited a cheap DVD store, where they sold the latest movies (Sex and the City, still in theatres, and Iron Man, for example) for only Tk 85—a little more than one American dollar. I was going to buy all the seasons of Lost for about $4, but I ended up with five of my favorite movies.
Afterwards, we headed over to New Market, an expansive outdoor bazaar with everything on the face of the earth. The highlights: the endless rows of similarly looking jeans and shirts, each a little bit off on the fashion side of things. Also, the fish market, where I got blood on my shirt as a worker skinned and sliced a live fish—I could see its heart beating right before he cut off the head. It was an intense, disgusting experience, and I won’t be eating fish for a while. But it was awesome!
Then we went to aarong, one of BRAC’s social enterprises. It’s a high-end retail store in Bangladesh, with super nice clothing and house ware made by BRAC employees throughout Bangladesh. It’s an amazing social venture, because it provides a job, a living wage, and lots of benefits to women who were unempowered and unemployed. It’s an amazing concept, but the merchandise is amazing as well—and so cheap! I almost bought a Punjabi, but I thought I looked ridiculous. I settled for sandals instead. We ended the day at a high-end boutique in Gulshan, by our house. Everything was so high quality, but ridiculously cheap. I got a great wallet, along with some gifts for home. It was another amazing day, and I look forward to tomorrow.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Arriving in Bangladesh
What a day. It still feels like one long period of consciousness: checking in, seemingly this morning, at JFK, eating Au Bon Pan with my mother, watching her watch me as I went through security, talking with Hillary on the phone, watching six movies on the plane (including No Country for Old Men, an amazing film), talking with Sam in the Dubai airport, on another plane, some quick winks, and then the craziness in Dhaka. To think that was more than two days ago is crazy. Traveling puts you in a daze, for days.
Arriving in Dhaka was an overwhelming experience. While acknowledging that the arrival is always the craziest part of the trip, my entrance to Bangladesh was completely different than any other introduction I’ve ever had to a foreign, new destination. Getting through customs was fast and easy, and unlike almost all my other trips, the driver actually showed up. However, the fun was yet to begin.
Driving through Dhaka was stunning. I just can’t get over how many people there are. People, crowding sidewalks, spilling onto the road, on every corner and crevice, there are Bangladeshis standing, talking, waiting, walking. It is like nothing I have ever seen. The density of the place, the sheer amount of people, buildings, cars, trash, trees, rickshaws, overcrowded buses, bicycles, and all the other stuff is simply unparalleled.
There are no driving rules in Bangladesh. We drove in between the median, in the middle of the white dotted lines. We honked at rickshaws, inches away from hitting them. We skimmed past standerbys, probably used to the traffic at this point. There are no traffic lights, and the buses, cars, bicycles, and people all squirm through intersections, always on the verge of major catastrophe. But in some weird way, the city lurches forward, never stopping, always driving towards something better in the future. My heart was racing the whole time.
The cab driver was very nice, though he didn’t speak a word of English, or nothing other than Bangla. When he asked if we wanted the “AC” (it sounded more like “ache”), he stopped the car in the middle of the road, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the windows. Cars honking angrily behind us, it was a scene that I won’t forget.
When we finally got to the BRAC Centre after twenty minutes of heart stopping close encounters, we began the real trip of trying to find our place of rest. The man at the BRAC Centre Inn told us in broken English that Shana, our program director, left the hotel that morning, and that she’s “somewhere in Dhaka—go look outside.” After throwing out names that we knew—Pushita, Manchita, Rachael, we finally found Shana. She was with her friend from BRAC USA in a room upstairs.
We then got back in our vehicle and drove through the traffic once more, eventually turning on to a dark, rutty road between decrepit buildings and boarded up storefronts. We stopped at once such building, our driver telling us with hand motions that this was our building. Again, lost in translation, we attempted to throw out known phrases in hopes that the Bangladeshis would recognize something: “TARC, BRAC, training, Nikitun.” The guys from the building were confused, but nodded and welcomed us in.
Needless to say, it was not where we were staying. But by that time, our driver had already left, basically running away saying “OK BYE!” So, we were stuck in a nameless Dhaka suburb in some random apartment building, without our driver’s mobile number or any direct contact point.
We stood on the staircase landing in the building, saddled with our luggage, while the apartment owners, scratching their muslin underpants (like skirts) and soiled wife beaters, stared as us in utter confusion, like we were aliens from a foreign planet. In some ways, I guess we were.
Eventually, we got our driver back and made it to the correct place. I’m sharing a room with Sam Halls, an awesome Australian/Kiwi/Dukie who was on my flight from New York. Our room is large but basic, populated by an endless supply of mosquitoes and other assorted bugs.
The bathroom was an experience unto itself. Between the window and the wall, there is a colony of ants which crawl over the floor of the shower (cold water only, of course). As I turned around after my initial overview of the bathroom, I found a wonderful little cockroach that was also touring the facility.
After a spirited debate with Shana about the ethics of killing animals (she wanted to save it), I took matters into my own hands and stomped the roach into oblivion. I then took the toilet plunger and hit it like a hockey puck down the hall. It was a hilarious experience of epic grossness.
That was about all the excitement for the night, and after unpacking—there was a black dust that covered all the furniture in the room, so that was an obstacle that the antibacterial gel fixed—we went to sleep. I woke up at 4:21am, thinking it was 9am, and so I read for a while before falling back to sleep.
That was my first day in Dhaka. It was good preparation for whatever comes next—I can’t wait to see what Bangladesh has in store for me.
Arriving in Dhaka was an overwhelming experience. While acknowledging that the arrival is always the craziest part of the trip, my entrance to Bangladesh was completely different than any other introduction I’ve ever had to a foreign, new destination. Getting through customs was fast and easy, and unlike almost all my other trips, the driver actually showed up. However, the fun was yet to begin.
Driving through Dhaka was stunning. I just can’t get over how many people there are. People, crowding sidewalks, spilling onto the road, on every corner and crevice, there are Bangladeshis standing, talking, waiting, walking. It is like nothing I have ever seen. The density of the place, the sheer amount of people, buildings, cars, trash, trees, rickshaws, overcrowded buses, bicycles, and all the other stuff is simply unparalleled.
There are no driving rules in Bangladesh. We drove in between the median, in the middle of the white dotted lines. We honked at rickshaws, inches away from hitting them. We skimmed past standerbys, probably used to the traffic at this point. There are no traffic lights, and the buses, cars, bicycles, and people all squirm through intersections, always on the verge of major catastrophe. But in some weird way, the city lurches forward, never stopping, always driving towards something better in the future. My heart was racing the whole time.
The cab driver was very nice, though he didn’t speak a word of English, or nothing other than Bangla. When he asked if we wanted the “AC” (it sounded more like “ache”), he stopped the car in the middle of the road, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the windows. Cars honking angrily behind us, it was a scene that I won’t forget.
When we finally got to the BRAC Centre after twenty minutes of heart stopping close encounters, we began the real trip of trying to find our place of rest. The man at the BRAC Centre Inn told us in broken English that Shana, our program director, left the hotel that morning, and that she’s “somewhere in Dhaka—go look outside.” After throwing out names that we knew—Pushita, Manchita, Rachael, we finally found Shana. She was with her friend from BRAC USA in a room upstairs.
We then got back in our vehicle and drove through the traffic once more, eventually turning on to a dark, rutty road between decrepit buildings and boarded up storefronts. We stopped at once such building, our driver telling us with hand motions that this was our building. Again, lost in translation, we attempted to throw out known phrases in hopes that the Bangladeshis would recognize something: “TARC, BRAC, training, Nikitun.” The guys from the building were confused, but nodded and welcomed us in.
Needless to say, it was not where we were staying. But by that time, our driver had already left, basically running away saying “OK BYE!” So, we were stuck in a nameless Dhaka suburb in some random apartment building, without our driver’s mobile number or any direct contact point.
We stood on the staircase landing in the building, saddled with our luggage, while the apartment owners, scratching their muslin underpants (like skirts) and soiled wife beaters, stared as us in utter confusion, like we were aliens from a foreign planet. In some ways, I guess we were.
Eventually, we got our driver back and made it to the correct place. I’m sharing a room with Sam Halls, an awesome Australian/Kiwi/Dukie who was on my flight from New York. Our room is large but basic, populated by an endless supply of mosquitoes and other assorted bugs.
The bathroom was an experience unto itself. Between the window and the wall, there is a colony of ants which crawl over the floor of the shower (cold water only, of course). As I turned around after my initial overview of the bathroom, I found a wonderful little cockroach that was also touring the facility.
After a spirited debate with Shana about the ethics of killing animals (she wanted to save it), I took matters into my own hands and stomped the roach into oblivion. I then took the toilet plunger and hit it like a hockey puck down the hall. It was a hilarious experience of epic grossness.
That was about all the excitement for the night, and after unpacking—there was a black dust that covered all the furniture in the room, so that was an obstacle that the antibacterial gel fixed—we went to sleep. I woke up at 4:21am, thinking it was 9am, and so I read for a while before falling back to sleep.
That was my first day in Dhaka. It was good preparation for whatever comes next—I can’t wait to see what Bangladesh has in store for me.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Tomorrow at precisely 11:20am, I depart for the experience of a lifetime; hopefully, a journey that will set me on a new course, or at least change me in wonderful, fascinating ways. I can only hope for such a good outcome, but whatever these two months turn out to be, I know that I'll be more mature, more knowledgeable, and more compassionate for a cause I know or care little about as I sit here now.
So, let me introduce you to me, Adam Nathan, on June 1st, 2008. I have two amazing parents. My father works in New York, loves to garden and fix up the house, and is rather quiet but full of emotion and wisdom. My mother is equally amazing, once a finance executive but now CEO of the full-time operation that is her family. She is brilliant, loving, and almost always correct. I'd like to think I take the best qualities from both, but I share those with my little brother of four years, Jordan, a hockey goalie extraordinaire who is contemplative, funny, and constantly thinking of those around him. In short, my family rocks, and I'm so lucky to have them.
I used to want to be a doctor, until I was five and realized I hated blood. Since then, I've been obsessed with architecture, and I have reams of drawings and floor plans to prove it. Despite my love for design in every form (you should see my homework from high school), I have since dreamt bigger, wanting to affect change on a larger playing field. My passions are all over the place: I love politics, the markets, different forms of media, education, environmental causes, and especially transportation, and I'd love to do something with all of them in my life. I want to make a difference someday, and though I’d like to think “that day” could be everyday, starting now—I feel like I never stop moving, and I usually take on too much for my own good. However, I wouldn't want to live any other way.
At Duke, I've been very interested in international development, especially the values and concepts of community, unity, empowerment, and change. Thankfully, I've already had many enriching experiences where I’ve been able to study and apply these values in the classroom and around the world. As such, I'm especially excited to travel to Bangladesh to work in microfinance, with an outstanding organization like BRAC, because it encapsulates all my interests and desires into one venture.
Microfinance is a very buzzy topic right now in development work--everyone wants a piece of it. I've read, both in and out of my studies, about the positives and negatives of microfinance theory, and I'm very excited to see how it works on the ground, and how much change it actually brings about.
I'm also thrilled to be recording such findings on video, as part of a documentary project for BRAC. I've never done documentary work before, but in all the places I've visited in Africa and South America, I always struggle to not forget the intimate and touching stories of the hundreds of people I have had the privilege to meet.
In Bangladesh, not only will I be living and observing a country and a place that I've never been to before, but I'll have a way to hold those memories with me, and give them to others too. I can't wait to take part.
Speaking of the country, my excitement also stems from the location itself. I know the axiom emphasizes the journey, but in this project's case, the journey is the destination. Bangladesh is a fascinating, mysterious place: the densest country in the world, Bangladesh has quickly risen from being a place of total abject poverty in the 1970s to a rising industrial power today. With an agriculture and textile-dependent economy and an ineffective national government structure, BRAC and its third-sector counterparts can take most of the credit for the progress achieved in the past half century. In almost no other place on Earth has such an incredible feat been accomplished. I'm so thrilled to be working with BRAC, a amazing group of people that have achieved so much and are still doing even more around the world.
Of course, I have been thinking and feeling about other things besides "GETMEONAPLANENOW!!!!" As with any new experience of murky, vauge detail, I am incredibly apprehensive. I have no idea what the country will be like, what BRAC will be like, what my student counterparts will be like. I have no idea if I will be useful, or if the trip will be totally unproductive and frustrating. I have no idea if I will understand the people I'm working with, or if I will ever truly appreciate all that the destination and journey offers.
But such thoughts will hopefully only be that—ridiculous worries that never come to fruition. In fact, I'm sure that the outcome will actually be quite the opposite, and I will work my hardest to make sure that my goal becomes a reality.
In the past two years, I haven't been at home more than ten days at a time, so this past month of literally doing nothing has been quite refreshing. I didn't even accomplish the meager goals I did set for myself, but I think it was good to have some time completely free of any commitments. Now, I'm ready for change; I'm ready to change.
I've been packing for the past few days, running through dozens of post-it note checklists. Now, the product of the past days’ work is in a big backpack, and I’m ready for the real work for begin.
So tomorrow, at 11:20am, I will get on a plane, ready, willing, and able for whatever the future holds. And at the end of the trip, I'll look back at this post and smile, because only then I'll know how much my journey into a new world was really a destination unto itself.
I can't wait to find out.
Best,
Adam
So, let me introduce you to me, Adam Nathan, on June 1st, 2008. I have two amazing parents. My father works in New York, loves to garden and fix up the house, and is rather quiet but full of emotion and wisdom. My mother is equally amazing, once a finance executive but now CEO of the full-time operation that is her family. She is brilliant, loving, and almost always correct. I'd like to think I take the best qualities from both, but I share those with my little brother of four years, Jordan, a hockey goalie extraordinaire who is contemplative, funny, and constantly thinking of those around him. In short, my family rocks, and I'm so lucky to have them.
I used to want to be a doctor, until I was five and realized I hated blood. Since then, I've been obsessed with architecture, and I have reams of drawings and floor plans to prove it. Despite my love for design in every form (you should see my homework from high school), I have since dreamt bigger, wanting to affect change on a larger playing field. My passions are all over the place: I love politics, the markets, different forms of media, education, environmental causes, and especially transportation, and I'd love to do something with all of them in my life. I want to make a difference someday, and though I’d like to think “that day” could be everyday, starting now—I feel like I never stop moving, and I usually take on too much for my own good. However, I wouldn't want to live any other way.
At Duke, I've been very interested in international development, especially the values and concepts of community, unity, empowerment, and change. Thankfully, I've already had many enriching experiences where I’ve been able to study and apply these values in the classroom and around the world. As such, I'm especially excited to travel to Bangladesh to work in microfinance, with an outstanding organization like BRAC, because it encapsulates all my interests and desires into one venture.
Microfinance is a very buzzy topic right now in development work--everyone wants a piece of it. I've read, both in and out of my studies, about the positives and negatives of microfinance theory, and I'm very excited to see how it works on the ground, and how much change it actually brings about.
I'm also thrilled to be recording such findings on video, as part of a documentary project for BRAC. I've never done documentary work before, but in all the places I've visited in Africa and South America, I always struggle to not forget the intimate and touching stories of the hundreds of people I have had the privilege to meet.
In Bangladesh, not only will I be living and observing a country and a place that I've never been to before, but I'll have a way to hold those memories with me, and give them to others too. I can't wait to take part.
Speaking of the country, my excitement also stems from the location itself. I know the axiom emphasizes the journey, but in this project's case, the journey is the destination. Bangladesh is a fascinating, mysterious place: the densest country in the world, Bangladesh has quickly risen from being a place of total abject poverty in the 1970s to a rising industrial power today. With an agriculture and textile-dependent economy and an ineffective national government structure, BRAC and its third-sector counterparts can take most of the credit for the progress achieved in the past half century. In almost no other place on Earth has such an incredible feat been accomplished. I'm so thrilled to be working with BRAC, a amazing group of people that have achieved so much and are still doing even more around the world.
Of course, I have been thinking and feeling about other things besides "GETMEONAPLANENOW!!!!" As with any new experience of murky, vauge detail, I am incredibly apprehensive. I have no idea what the country will be like, what BRAC will be like, what my student counterparts will be like. I have no idea if I will be useful, or if the trip will be totally unproductive and frustrating. I have no idea if I will understand the people I'm working with, or if I will ever truly appreciate all that the destination and journey offers.
But such thoughts will hopefully only be that—ridiculous worries that never come to fruition. In fact, I'm sure that the outcome will actually be quite the opposite, and I will work my hardest to make sure that my goal becomes a reality.
In the past two years, I haven't been at home more than ten days at a time, so this past month of literally doing nothing has been quite refreshing. I didn't even accomplish the meager goals I did set for myself, but I think it was good to have some time completely free of any commitments. Now, I'm ready for change; I'm ready to change.
I've been packing for the past few days, running through dozens of post-it note checklists. Now, the product of the past days’ work is in a big backpack, and I’m ready for the real work for begin.
So tomorrow, at 11:20am, I will get on a plane, ready, willing, and able for whatever the future holds. And at the end of the trip, I'll look back at this post and smile, because only then I'll know how much my journey into a new world was really a destination unto itself.
I can't wait to find out.
Best,
Adam
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)