December 16th is an important day in Bangladesh. It's "Victory Day," when the war with Pakistan in 1971 ended and Bangladesh truly born. Today Bangladesh turns 40. What does that mean, Aunt Connie, should we be having a tacky hat party? Buying silver?
BRAC's story begins around this same time. Prior to the Liberation War, there was a devastating cyclone in "East Pakistan," to which the Pakistani government was largely unresponsive. Fazle Abed organized a small group to lead relief efforts in a particularly remote island that no one was reaching. The money left over from this organization was redirected once victory was declared, and millions of refugees flooded back in, to build lives from scratch in their newborn country. This was the humble beginning of BRAC. I spoke with one of the initial team members at the board meeting last week, and she said, "We had no idea that BRAC would one day be what it is today. Back then we were just doing what we thought had to get done at the moment."
I found this really inspiring. To my knowledge, Fazle Abed never said, "I want to build the largest development organization in the world. One that employs tens of thousands of people, reaches millions, and spans the world." And yet, here we are, with people like me tasked with detecting and fixing the small ways in which we are victims of our own success. It's a testament to the power of commitment and action. A bottoms up approach can build skyscrapers. Even if you plan creatively, you're still limited to some sense in what you believe is possible. So perhaps sometimes, or to some extent all the time, leaving some things to chance may be an important part of allowing success to happen.
BRAC is now undeniably an international organization, but most days, and particularly yesterday, it's clear that pride and love for Bangladesh is also part of our DNA. We hung two huge lighted signs at the top of our 20th story building that had the BRAC logo and said "40 years of realising potential in Bangladesh." I was outside when the Communications Department flipped on the light at 5PM. It's hard to appreciate how visible it is from the bottom of the building (I suggested that BRAC rent out the rooftop bar at one of the posh hotels a mile away, with perhaps an open bar, but was rejected), but on the way home, I got a nice view from the rickshaw. Seeing it, I mainly wonder why we didn't do it earlier! It's a perfect symbol of BRAC's permanence (in good times and dark times), optimism, and leadership (we light the path for others). And maybe innovation (lots of lightbulb moments!).
Most of the holidays that I've observed here are religious in nature, so even if I participate in the activities, I don't feel part of them. But Victory Day and the celebration of Bangladesh is something that I can feel in my heart, albeit differently from how those around me experience it themselves. I was really excited when my colleague Asif bhai invited me to Dhaka University, with his adorable daughter Anahita and a few friends. I love going to these types of events, but I can't go alone without being swarmed by new "friends," and my normal Dhaka University escort, Showvik, is in Nepal for the month. We bundled into the car and headed downtown. Unfortunately we had forgotten about the jam situation--traffic in Dhaka never fails to amaze me. It's chilly in Dhaka now! Anahita and I are both in several layers, including "chador," the thick scarves that come out this time of year. Hers is cooler than mine though, it's pink and has little puffs on the hem. I've stopped comparing myself with cool nine-year-old since Samantha turned 9 (which OMG was soooo long ago!), because I just can't win that contest. I can just hope that for now I have that "cool adult" thing working for me. We'll see how long I can continue to believe in that concept.
Since my Thanksgiving surprise pity party, I've realized that this month is undoubtedly the hardest to be away from home. So I've been proactively managing it more. Last weekend I helped at a Christmas Fair at the American club, marshaling a carpet "ice skating" rink (we taped wax paper on kids feet). Afterwards I drank hot chocolate and listened to Christmas Carols (they get points for effort if not tune). Another friend suggested I check out the Christmas sales at Aarong and other high-end stores, but I said, "You know, it's kind of like wax paper ice skating. If you're familiar with the real thing, it's just depressing." Plus while I can be nostalgic for the mall playing carols, kids in line to sit in Santa's lap, tinsel decorations, I know that if I were there I'd be wishing I were somewhere far away, like Bangladesh, in fact!
How we see the world is a combination of what's there, and how we choose to see it. My grandmama for example can see any movie at the theatre in 3d if she just brings her special 3d glasses. At least we don't have to worry about her getting hit by a reindeer if she's glued to the screen! Meanwhile, Bangladesh's national colors are red and green, and buildings are covered with strings of lights for Victory Day. In recent years, some places have expanded to also put up white and blue lights. I can almost hear Elvis. And they are everywhere! If I open my bedroom curtain (yes, I think I have finally finished buying curtains for my apartment.....inshallah), I would be blinded by the glow coming from these lights.
We're stuck in the jam last night, inching along, bundled up in our chadors, and I'm staring out the window, struck by the ridiculous similarity between these situation and piling into our car back in Cary to drive around Preston, looking at the Christmas decorations that overachieving households put up. I see Dhaka decked for my holiday when I look around. The Rupali hotel (formerly Sheraton) actually has a Santa with reindeer light decoration, and I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not hallucinating. Nope, those really are Christmas lights!
At Dhaka university, we find live music (Bengali pop rock, word), candles forming a big "80" (the 4 in Bangla looks like an 8 in English, so that's how one writes "40"), and what we came to see--fancha, which are small hot air balloons that are released into the sky with a flame brightly burning. The "TSC" (Teacher Student Center) is covered with a huge flag, not the simple green one with the red circle in the middle, but with a yellow map of Bangladesh in the center. This was the original design, but if you are familiar with the Bangladeshi coast line (it's pretty squiggly), you'll understand why there were practical reasons for omitting this over time. Yet every year the students create a huge patchwork version of the original flag and hoist it up to overlook the festivities. It's fun. Students are students everywhere. There's less booze and more guy-on-guy dancing than I ever observed at an American college, but the smiles, laughter, sense of carefree and exuberant enjoyment are quite familiar. Something about seeing these young 'uns (my five year reunion was earlier this year, so I am officially in a different age groups) be so socially free made me feel very hopeful about the future of Bangladesh (and the world more generally). These people are Bangladeshis, they were born in this country. They grew up with the stories of the Mukti bahini (freedom fighters), but they know only the romanticized version, the legends that have emerged in the collective telling and retelling of the watershed moments. There is no first-hand knowledge of the terror, the brutality, and perhaps what's most lost is the agony of waiting, the moments when nothing is happening but one has no idea what that means and waits in fear of something happening. Similar comparisons have been made in the United States, of those of us who were born after the Vietnam War (although with our military history in the last few years, I would focus on how we've made war invisible at home as the major change). So this generation is not burdened by their memories and personal sorrows, instead they inherit the stories, some of the passions, and hopefully, the passion and sense of collective responsibility, in some sense, since they lack that participation in the first round of battles, to build a better Bangladesh. To see them celebrating their country so happily was at least one quick sign for me that the hope is quite alive. And it's one of the "bigger picture" things that anchors me here; I share that hope and collective responsibility for building a better world.
Sonar Bangladesh--Golden Bangladesh. Silver and Gold. I look at the drivers of the mobile photo exhibits (on vans) that BRAC has arranged, in their red shirts and green vests, and think "elves." I'm truly incorrigible. Nothing is holy to my tendencies towards creative fusion.
When I was here in 2008, I got up on stage and sang "I'll be home for Christmas" at a conference in Bangladesh. I wondered if I could similarly hijack the stage here at the TSC. What would I sing? I wrack my brain for a song that captures the sentiments of the day. The Vietnam War songs are too mournful; we're celebrating the birth of the nation today. The band starts playing "Imagine," which I don't particularly like but obviously know the words to and hum along. I guess now I have a year to choose a song for next year's Victory Day. Maybe by then I'll know more of the Bangladeshi songs.
So, to everyone: Have a very merry "V-day" (V is for victory in this case). Tomorrow I'll start coming up with jokes about the BRAC sign, like playing Ace of Base or quoting lines from the unbearable lightness of being (no one laughs at my jokes besides me anyway, so there's no harm in making pretentious ones). But today I'll try to respect the holiday spirit and offer suggestions for celebration: don in red and green and add "global solidarity" to your list of things to experience today. Fa la la la la.
BRAC's story begins around this same time. Prior to the Liberation War, there was a devastating cyclone in "East Pakistan," to which the Pakistani government was largely unresponsive. Fazle Abed organized a small group to lead relief efforts in a particularly remote island that no one was reaching. The money left over from this organization was redirected once victory was declared, and millions of refugees flooded back in, to build lives from scratch in their newborn country. This was the humble beginning of BRAC. I spoke with one of the initial team members at the board meeting last week, and she said, "We had no idea that BRAC would one day be what it is today. Back then we were just doing what we thought had to get done at the moment."
I found this really inspiring. To my knowledge, Fazle Abed never said, "I want to build the largest development organization in the world. One that employs tens of thousands of people, reaches millions, and spans the world." And yet, here we are, with people like me tasked with detecting and fixing the small ways in which we are victims of our own success. It's a testament to the power of commitment and action. A bottoms up approach can build skyscrapers. Even if you plan creatively, you're still limited to some sense in what you believe is possible. So perhaps sometimes, or to some extent all the time, leaving some things to chance may be an important part of allowing success to happen.
BRAC is now undeniably an international organization, but most days, and particularly yesterday, it's clear that pride and love for Bangladesh is also part of our DNA. We hung two huge lighted signs at the top of our 20th story building that had the BRAC logo and said "40 years of realising potential in Bangladesh." I was outside when the Communications Department flipped on the light at 5PM. It's hard to appreciate how visible it is from the bottom of the building (I suggested that BRAC rent out the rooftop bar at one of the posh hotels a mile away, with perhaps an open bar, but was rejected), but on the way home, I got a nice view from the rickshaw. Seeing it, I mainly wonder why we didn't do it earlier! It's a perfect symbol of BRAC's permanence (in good times and dark times), optimism, and leadership (we light the path for others). And maybe innovation (lots of lightbulb moments!).
Most of the holidays that I've observed here are religious in nature, so even if I participate in the activities, I don't feel part of them. But Victory Day and the celebration of Bangladesh is something that I can feel in my heart, albeit differently from how those around me experience it themselves. I was really excited when my colleague Asif bhai invited me to Dhaka University, with his adorable daughter Anahita and a few friends. I love going to these types of events, but I can't go alone without being swarmed by new "friends," and my normal Dhaka University escort, Showvik, is in Nepal for the month. We bundled into the car and headed downtown. Unfortunately we had forgotten about the jam situation--traffic in Dhaka never fails to amaze me. It's chilly in Dhaka now! Anahita and I are both in several layers, including "chador," the thick scarves that come out this time of year. Hers is cooler than mine though, it's pink and has little puffs on the hem. I've stopped comparing myself with cool nine-year-old since Samantha turned 9 (which OMG was soooo long ago!), because I just can't win that contest. I can just hope that for now I have that "cool adult" thing working for me. We'll see how long I can continue to believe in that concept.
Since my Thanksgiving surprise pity party, I've realized that this month is undoubtedly the hardest to be away from home. So I've been proactively managing it more. Last weekend I helped at a Christmas Fair at the American club, marshaling a carpet "ice skating" rink (we taped wax paper on kids feet). Afterwards I drank hot chocolate and listened to Christmas Carols (they get points for effort if not tune). Another friend suggested I check out the Christmas sales at Aarong and other high-end stores, but I said, "You know, it's kind of like wax paper ice skating. If you're familiar with the real thing, it's just depressing." Plus while I can be nostalgic for the mall playing carols, kids in line to sit in Santa's lap, tinsel decorations, I know that if I were there I'd be wishing I were somewhere far away, like Bangladesh, in fact!
How we see the world is a combination of what's there, and how we choose to see it. My grandmama for example can see any movie at the theatre in 3d if she just brings her special 3d glasses. At least we don't have to worry about her getting hit by a reindeer if she's glued to the screen! Meanwhile, Bangladesh's national colors are red and green, and buildings are covered with strings of lights for Victory Day. In recent years, some places have expanded to also put up white and blue lights. I can almost hear Elvis. And they are everywhere! If I open my bedroom curtain (yes, I think I have finally finished buying curtains for my apartment.....inshallah), I would be blinded by the glow coming from these lights.
We're stuck in the jam last night, inching along, bundled up in our chadors, and I'm staring out the window, struck by the ridiculous similarity between these situation and piling into our car back in Cary to drive around Preston, looking at the Christmas decorations that overachieving households put up. I see Dhaka decked for my holiday when I look around. The Rupali hotel (formerly Sheraton) actually has a Santa with reindeer light decoration, and I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not hallucinating. Nope, those really are Christmas lights!
At Dhaka university, we find live music (Bengali pop rock, word), candles forming a big "80" (the 4 in Bangla looks like an 8 in English, so that's how one writes "40"), and what we came to see--fancha, which are small hot air balloons that are released into the sky with a flame brightly burning. The "TSC" (Teacher Student Center) is covered with a huge flag, not the simple green one with the red circle in the middle, but with a yellow map of Bangladesh in the center. This was the original design, but if you are familiar with the Bangladeshi coast line (it's pretty squiggly), you'll understand why there were practical reasons for omitting this over time. Yet every year the students create a huge patchwork version of the original flag and hoist it up to overlook the festivities. It's fun. Students are students everywhere. There's less booze and more guy-on-guy dancing than I ever observed at an American college, but the smiles, laughter, sense of carefree and exuberant enjoyment are quite familiar. Something about seeing these young 'uns (my five year reunion was earlier this year, so I am officially in a different age groups) be so socially free made me feel very hopeful about the future of Bangladesh (and the world more generally). These people are Bangladeshis, they were born in this country. They grew up with the stories of the Mukti bahini (freedom fighters), but they know only the romanticized version, the legends that have emerged in the collective telling and retelling of the watershed moments. There is no first-hand knowledge of the terror, the brutality, and perhaps what's most lost is the agony of waiting, the moments when nothing is happening but one has no idea what that means and waits in fear of something happening. Similar comparisons have been made in the United States, of those of us who were born after the Vietnam War (although with our military history in the last few years, I would focus on how we've made war invisible at home as the major change). So this generation is not burdened by their memories and personal sorrows, instead they inherit the stories, some of the passions, and hopefully, the passion and sense of collective responsibility, in some sense, since they lack that participation in the first round of battles, to build a better Bangladesh. To see them celebrating their country so happily was at least one quick sign for me that the hope is quite alive. And it's one of the "bigger picture" things that anchors me here; I share that hope and collective responsibility for building a better world.
Sonar Bangladesh--Golden Bangladesh. Silver and Gold. I look at the drivers of the mobile photo exhibits (on vans) that BRAC has arranged, in their red shirts and green vests, and think "elves." I'm truly incorrigible. Nothing is holy to my tendencies towards creative fusion.
When I was here in 2008, I got up on stage and sang "I'll be home for Christmas" at a conference in Bangladesh. I wondered if I could similarly hijack the stage here at the TSC. What would I sing? I wrack my brain for a song that captures the sentiments of the day. The Vietnam War songs are too mournful; we're celebrating the birth of the nation today. The band starts playing "Imagine," which I don't particularly like but obviously know the words to and hum along. I guess now I have a year to choose a song for next year's Victory Day. Maybe by then I'll know more of the Bangladeshi songs.
So, to everyone: Have a very merry "V-day" (V is for victory in this case). Tomorrow I'll start coming up with jokes about the BRAC sign, like playing Ace of Base or quoting lines from the unbearable lightness of being (no one laughs at my jokes besides me anyway, so there's no harm in making pretentious ones). But today I'll try to respect the holiday spirit and offer suggestions for celebration: don in red and green and add "global solidarity" to your list of things to experience today. Fa la la la la.
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