Insights and Observations

Insights and Observations

We really hope our last few posts haven’t gotten you down, or haven’t left you worried about us and our happiness. Be assured, we’re just fine, and really quite happy.

This is the final part of the previous boat adventure series. We hope you will learn what we have come to see, realize, and accept. Initially we questioned whether we should write the 'grimmy' details posted in the last 3 posts, but after some humming and hahing we agreed that it would be beneficial to not only us but you as well.

There is a perception among some who think that when travelling abroad EVERYTHING is wonderful and spectacular and fun and intriguing and delightful and that in order to be a good “expat” you have to LOVE every bit of it.  But that’s not the truth- sometimes (just like back home) things are hard and not the way you’d expect them to go. But, the goal is to be able to learn something valuable about ourselves and about the world regardless of the situation itself. So, that is what we’re choosing to do with this situation. It’s real life and that’s the stuff growth is made of.

You see, we have been gifted (although it did not seem like much of an enjoyable gift) with the glimpse of how so many people in our world live. We have experienced a morsel of what an alarming amount of people go through; people of minorities, people of inferiority, people of the 'wrong' sort because of their race, sex, religion, or sexual orientation. We cried over the inequality and disrespect we received and we were outraged over the passiveness we felt we had to abide by. How was it possible that at home we can be assertive and confident, yet that weekend we were forced to be quiet and reserved about the judgement and disdainful comments thrown our way? Where was our right to defend ourselves and be heard? Where was our right for respect?
But the reality is, we are privileged to know what those rights are, that those rights even exist. We have seen women here, women who live in the apartment beside us, that are likely caged in their homes.  They look at us while we hang our laundry with deep, sorrowful eyes and then smile shyly and embarrassingly when we wave to them; like  we have just gifted them a special secret. Do these women have the same privilege of exercising their rights just as we do? Perhaps they do and we are assuming the worst, however we do know that hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of women do not even have the ability to walk outside alone. They are forever judged, forever put down, forever denied the chance to chase dreams. But we have already chased just one of our dreams; we have chased it to this country, you might even say to that boat.

There is an alarming amount of 'prestige' that is dished out on just about every opportunity here in Bangladesh. Nearly every person we have met has boasted about their recently obtained Masters degree or Ph.D. Literature, math, physics, engineering, economics, you name it and they've got it. Even often with honours. It is clear that the authenticity of much of this 'high level' education is questionable. We have heard from many different individuals that it is not difficult to purchase these such prestigious awards. How sad that this country cries out for the need of honesty but even the academics are among the corrupted.
We are frequently frustrated with this boastful attitude and have tried on many occasions to explain why we ourselves do not have our Masters, but it only falls on deaf ears. You can see the eagerness in their eyes, and the triumph in their expression when they hear your shortcoming... the superior attitude is ignited and the flame is as strong as ever. There was usually no point in even continuing the conversation when this occurred on the boat. But why this attitude? Why this quest to spout off every single academic accolade? We believe that this prominent behaviour must come from somewhere, that perhaps it is even a learned behaviour or an adaptation from being continually repressed and treated this way in their past. They have clawed their way up to a high level academic platform, and they will be damned if anyone tries to push them off.

We wondered if we- just by the pure fact that we’re white and foreign and rich and educated- makes us a threat.  Probably it does, and it makes sense. To us in North America, we have this strange and privileged view that “the sky’s the limit” and “if you work hard, you can achieve anything”! Some of these slogans have been with us since we were young- attempts to build our motivation and the ever important Self-Esteem. But here, it’s like there’s a limited amount of good to go around, and if you see your neighbor get ahead, that means there’s less good out there for you to have. And this breeds insane jealousy.

Karen told us a few tales from her 10 years of experience here and they really helped make sense of it all. She told me that there is actually a work in Bangali which means quite literally, “to seethe with jealousy over someone else’s successes”. Sounds pretty harsh hey?  The other story was a fable that was told to her by a friend. It goes something like this:

            There was a young man, and through his actions he please Allah very much. Allah was so pleased in fact, that he told the young man that he could have anything he wished for, and double that would be granted his neighbor. He had until Sunrise to decide. Sunrise was almost upon him and Allah cried, “my son my son! Have you decided what you wish for”? The young man thought for a while and finally said, “I wish to be blind, but only in one eye”.

 From this you can see how deep these feeling of jealousy and competition go. This is a country of nearly 150 million people, competition and ruthlessness is essential to life.

This is Bangladesh. This is how people live.

Trapped on a Boat Day 3

We’re sad to say this this will be our final “Trapped on a boat” entry. Although seemingly hilarious (and at times it was) it was also somewhat traumatic and we’d like to leave this chapter behind us. We’re fine- we’ve moved on. It was just hard plain and simple.

   We have several more “Insults” to share as well as “insights” so stay with us.

Insult #7- Bag stealer.  We were finding it more and more difficult to take notes during the presentations. As much as we’re sure they do speak English, the thick accent, stuttering, muttering and general lack of flow to the delivery made it very very difficult.  We actually had a good laugh one afternoon when we attempted to read the sentences that we had word for word written down. Pretty ridiculous. Because of this, we decided that sitting directly across from the presenters would give us a leg up, since that way we could at least try to lip read. 

 Heidi placed our two conference bags on the chairs to reserve them and went to get some tea. Upon returning, we sad down to our computers and got ready to assume our scribe position.  Then Bag Stealer showed up, also known as “BS”- feel free to interpret this any way you would like.  It went something like this.

           

BS reaches down and grabs Ricki’s bag that she is practically sitting on. Ricki looking surprised looks at BS. BS asks, “ Is this your bag?” Ricki responds “yes”. BS begins walking away while riffling through Ricki’s bag. Ricki (a little more forcefully states), “ Excuse me, it is still my bag”. BS begrudgingly tosses the bag back into Ricki’s lap.

Once again confused, we take up our post and begin taking notes.

Insult #8 Demoted to Second Class.

            We are taking refuge in our room when we receive a knock on our door and suddenly there are 5 men standing in our very small room. We are informed that we must pack up our things a move to second class.  We were earlier told that “Second class is not safe for you madamme”- but now suddenly it is. And we’re fine with the move- really. But there are now 5 men standing in our room staring at us. It’s awkward so we clearly acknowledge that we understand and could we please have some space as we pack our things. So we move- traipsing through a sea of people who have shawls and blankets on the floor, setting up camp for the night.  Now let us be clear- we ABSOLUTELY are fine with moving rooms, and we ABSOLUTELY understand how privileged we are to have a bed at all, when these people don’t.

But we weren’t fine with moving because some crabby women complained that

“The students shouldn’t have a first class room”, and “ why do I have to have a second class room when they get a first class room”… (on and on etc. etc). 

            We are eventually shown our space and are left a lone for a moment. We now are sharing a small bed- as hard as an ironing board, with only one small thin blanket to share between us. There was also no glass on the windows and we were facing the deck of the ship so knew we were going to be mighty cold that night.  We also immediately put into place a plan to dehydrate ourselves starting asap since getting to one of the few bathrooms on board would be nearly impossible during the night. When we first arrived at our room, the sea of people parted, but we knew that at night, there would be no parting of the seas and we would literally have to step on numerous human beings to get through- not an option.  We also had to consider further “Bathroom Psychology” when making these decisions. We sleep in tights and fitted thermal shirts- definitely NOT appropriate Muslim attire. So, if we were to need the bathroom in the night, we would first have to change our clothes in order to be considered appropriate enough to come out of our rooms. This was taking it to far and thank goodness we did not have to use the washroom that night.

Insult #9 Earlier that same evening, Heidi approached “Pinky” (who was also delegated the PR person for the retreat) and asked if there was any way we could have an extra blanket for the night- since we were sure it would be quite cold. Never once did we complain about our accommodations, or request a transfer- we breathed not a word of distain or frustration.  But as is common in Bangladeshi culture- like the game of telephone- the simple request spun out of control. 

Suddenly we were dragged to room 12 in First Class and forcefully asked “Do you want this room”? Meanwhile there are people already occupying the room. Heidi, hoping for some clarification as to why we were being asked to move again, went to see the event coordinator. Upon her return, Pinky (with his back turned to Heidi) states, “ Well Ricki, since Heidi has such a big problem bla bla…” After which Heidi abruptly cuts him off asking for him to speak to her if he has a problem.  He throws up his hands and aggressively states “ What’s the problem? You are both always so hard to please…”. At this point Heidi asks for just a few moments to think and Pinky responds (like a parent to a child) “You have 2 minutes to decide”.  Heidi (losing it by this point) states as forcefully back “FINE” and we exit to room to get some air on the deck in order to suppress our homicidal thoughts.

We are followed momentarily by Pinky, his entourage, as well as the chief chair and speaker of the retreat (how embarrassing).  Basically he went on and on about our unhappiness and our safety etc etc.  Heidi clarified that “We were fine, just fine we only wanted an extra blanket- that’s it, that’s all, and that we weren’t sure why we were being asked to move again in the first place.  To this we were informed that well, now actually there wasn’t an option to move because the 2 guys they were trying to kick out of their room for our sakes were refusing to move.

  We retreated to our room an hour later defeated and (Heidi) in tears. What a brutal end to the day.  Heidi confesses that yes, during the last session she did in fact tear a small square of tablecloth off and rip it into as many pieces she could- last resort coping strategy. Only mildly effective, but it was all she had.

In the end no extra blanket was to be found (actually, there were extra blankets, but the women In first class were hording them), and Jim- another foreign volunteer at our university graciously shared the blanket he had brought from home- at his own expense. Our sleep was cold and hard. People in Bangladesh LOVE their mobile phones and MUST keep their ring tones set on the most annoying and loudest setting possible. SO throughout the night, we were wakened to these sounds over and over and over.

Finally, Insult #10 came with another ridiculous conversation had with one of the members of the retreat- now of the opposite sex.  Up until this point he had played it cool, been quite sweet to us, and actually had intelligent things to say during the session. But that bubble was burst pretty quickly as he sat down beside us. The conversation started like EVERY conversation starts with “What country do you come from”? Answer, “Canada”. Next question, “ Do you have a masters”? Answer, “No”. Follow by, “Well I do!” which leads into a DETAILS list of how many degrees and when they were obtained, and from where they were obtained, and when and where he got his masters (self promotion is one of the most annoying things to have to sit and listen to) etc. etc. etc. 

We responded politely (although by this point our stamina to play these games was on it’s last thread) and congratulated him on his achievements. This lead into a him informing us that we really ought to register with the BNC (Bangladesh Nursing Council) if we want to work in Bangladesh. As an aside, the BNC is nothing like the Canadian equivalent. It’s simple a corrupt, bribe run organization which does absolutely nothing to help propagate the Nursing Profession. If fact it works to inhibit growth. So clearly at this point he still thinks we are students at this point. We inform him that we are not students and not to worry because we weren’t practicing in the clinical setting anyway. He continues to stress the fact that we really still should be registered. We assure him we’ll talk to Karen and he pushes the issue until Heidi’s ready to give him a knuckle sandwich.

 The conversation turns to our “teaching standards”. He stresses the importance of teaching the “Nursing Model” not the medical model (Duh) and that we really should be teaching at an International Standard (Obviously). We reassure him that having been educated in Canada we most definitely will teach current Nursing theory and strive to reach international teaching criteria. The last straw was when he questioned IUBAT’s ability to provide good nursing education (it is the very best of the best in Bangladesh- everyone knows it but no one wants to say it for fear of looking inferior). At this point, we were rescued by our dear friend Charlotte and again, worked to fight of the urges to throw him overboard.

 Seeing that 10 is a nice round number we will close this Third and final installation of “Trapped on a Boat”. Next post will be our “Insights”- a less sarcastic and more realistic reflection.

 Bye for now! Love Ricki and Heidi

Pics from the weekend

Trapped on a boat Day 2

We left off with the aforementioned overtaking of our room by the enemy.

Our front line retreated and we took cover in a room across the hall- with full knowledge that this fortress was only temporary. We’d be moving again the next day.

As an aside, first class is not first class. Good thing we brought our own sheets, pillows, lights, towels, mugs, coffee making apparatus, extra clothes for warmth, ear plugs, and anything else to distract us from our most uncomfortable surroundings. We are becoming much more prepared travellers.

We ended the day with a short podcast by The Moth and hunkered down for the night with the words “5 hours down”. We knew what was in store for us- this ain’t our first rodeo.

Alarm went off at 7am to start day 2. But do you really need an alarm clock when you’ve been awake all night? Not so much.  From 11pm to 1am it sounded as if all hell were breaking loose as the boat docked, then set off, then docked again. We were both awake shivering around 4 am.

Breakfast that morning consisted of white bread, butter and hard boiled eggs. Not much to write home about, but it did the trick- especially with Habit coffee in hand.

Then we launched into the true work of the day- taking notes.

As stated earlier, the weekend was comprised of small lectures, workshops and small group discussions followed by presentations. We drew the short end of the stick, and were deemed the “scribes” of the conference.  We walked about, computers in hand and attempted to decipher between fits of Bangla and English (but damn- we are good. We’re so fast, we caught gasps and verbs, and nouns, and feelings and glances and snarls) and we don’t even know what else. Each group had a clear goal (or at least we thought they did) but as we ventured about we realized that the future looked bleak. We noticed that the appointed foreigner/mediator of each group was ready dive overboard due to frustration with the lack of focus and cohesiveness. This is an understatement.

 A small break followed where we enjoyed a delightful cup of tea on the deck. Here, we will introduce Scuzzy McScuzzerson- the secretary to the secretary of the assistant to the secretary of someone important we don’t know who. He was a sweet man, with good intentions however most things that came out of his mouth were mildly inappropriate or completely uncalled for. For example, we are enjoying our tea on the deck, and he joyfully prances from around the corner, stopping in front of us- posing with his hand splayed outwards stating, “ I have just washed my body”. He holds his pose, waiting for we’re not sure what. The awkward silence that ensued felt like a lifetime as we nervously smiled, acknowledging that yes in fact, he had washed his body.  We’ll sum it up to his best, and the worst pick up line we’d ever heard.  

 Insult #5 (in case you’re keeping track) occurred just before we sat down to the first round of group presentations.  We were standing in a small circle, discussing the weather when  “shaky voice” (although physically strong) decided to walk THROUGH us instead of around us. She literally lowered the shoulder in a Rugby style move and body checked Ricki to the side. This was followed by Heidi’s total shock of what just happened and stunned rely in her direction of “REALLY??” and Ricki resetting her shoulder. Unbelievable. Post assault, we calmed each other down

with under our breath heckling to the tune of “ You wanna start this game? I invented this game! I’ll show you what a real body check looks like, and afterwards I’ll ask you how the water feels- my guess is wet!”

Insult #6 And now, our most despised enemy- “Pinky”.  Just as our jets are cooling, Pinky walks though the door and coolly states, “ Heidi, you look tense- you look unhappy”. We can’t convey the tone here, but it was more like a cruel joke, more like “ Oh, what’s wrong now you poor baby? Can’t handle the bullying? Awwww, poor little white girl”.   To keep from loosing it completely Heidi responded, “ I’m fine- just tired”. Big. Fat. Lie.

After this, there was nowhere to turn to but our beds. We took a nap.

The rest of the day was a blur of one-sided conversations with people who only cared about one thing- making sure we knew how many degrees they had and where they got their masters from.  We also realized then, that we wouldn’t be showering the whole weekend. The bathrooms were horrid- no toilet paper, water dripping down on you from the ceiling, awful smell, no soap. The ship’s employees were also fond of their aerosol and took great liberties and seeming joy at spraying their poisonous gas everywhere and at the most inopportune moments- like when you’re standing less than a foot away. They kept saying it was for mosquitoes but after Karen finally yelled “STOP THAT” and grabbed it away, we saw that in fact it was just air freshener and be assured, the most artificial and noxious kind.

Our day did end on a humorous note, with Scuzzy back in our lives. We’re at the door of our bedroom, and he literally dragged us out to the deck.  With childlike delight he points into the sky and states “ Look!! The moon!!!” We aren’t sure at this point the response he’s wanting so we say “ Ah yes, the moon”.  And then he goes on to ask us if we have the moon in Canada. To this with confusion we respond, “Yes, yes we do have the moon in Canada”, but in order not shatter his hopes and dreams Heidi says “ But perhaps our moon is seen from a different angle”. He also keeps emphasizing the fact that it’s a full moon (when clearly it is not). Again, our Canadian kindness shows when Ricki says, “ Well, almost, yes, it's close- almost full”.

With day 2 over, we drift off to sleep trying to make sense of what just happened, and pray that tomorrow will be better. Unlikely.

Trapped on a boat Day 1

We’d like to let you in on a little secret- and please, please don’t judge us. We often use this Blog as a form of coping. Now don’t get us wrong- we’ve told you no lies thus far, we are completely content being here in Bangladesh. But, there are at times tricky situations in which we find ourselves, what with being in one of the most populated and corrupt cities in the world.

With that introduction, we will proceed into a recent tale experienced by yours truly.

It begins on a sunny and dusty Thursday afternoon.  Gathered together in front to IUBAT, we awaited our departure.  And waited. And waited- on Shampson. Not sure how old she is. We know she has bad knees. We barely understand a word she says. She’s on faculty with the IUBAT nursing program… and we’re not at all sure what she does, if anything. Ricki has actually become her personal Sherpa. She finally showed and we pilled into a “microbus” and we began our 3 hour journey to the dock. All said and done, Shampson is growing on us- she even referred to us several times as “my girls” and today with Ricki got the hiccups, she patted her back- like a little baby. Cute.

Our journey was like every traffic filled adventure we’d been on thus far. But… to our joyous surprise our driver (at the direction of Jim) didn’t honk his horn once, and drove nice and slow- perfect. As we sat in gridlock in downtown Dhaka and heard the buses beside us collide (neither one giving in) slowly and thoroughly scraping their sides, we observed the sites of Old Dhaka and New Market- a massive sprawl of shops where you can get almost anything you want, from bootleg textbooks to mattresses.

We arrived at the dock and were at once escorted to the “VIP” room where we stayed only momentarily, afterwards being escorted to the REAL “VIP” room. And here we encounter our first arch nemesis. If we were superman, they were our kryptonite.  It all began innocently enough, pointing and whispering- shifty glances followed by evil laughter directed towards us. Being Canadian and all, we thought they were just being friendly. How naïve we were- our battle was just beginning.

Perhaps it would be best to give you some background information.

We were off to attend a nursing conference focused on cooperative dialogue between members of different nursing disciplines in order to begin initiatives towards higher nursing education in Bangladesh.  There were many areas of the profession present- nursing directors of hospitals, those directly affiliated with the Ministry of health, nurse educators representing most hospitals as well as others interested in these undertakings.

The weekend was comprised of numerous small lectures, small group brainstorming sessions, presentations and follow up as well as a time for networking and interdisciplinary relationship building.

It was located on a boat- a 98 year old boat to be precise which was named “ the rocket”.  This vessel travelled from Dhaka down one of the main rivers bordering the city. Mostly it’s purpose was to ferry passengers to and from small villages all the way down to the Sundarbans- location of the largest Mangrove forest in the world as well as home to the ever endangered Bengal Tiger. Unlucky for us we saw neither as we approached this portion of our journey in the middle of the night.

With these details setting the stage, we will continue.  We will phrase the remainder of the story as follows:

Insult #1. Ricki is quietly standing by the table. Person A on Ricki’s left leans in front of Ricki to person B on the her right . States something loudly and angrily using Bangla with one English word midsentence. Students. Luckily person B was our lovely Shampson who replied “ She’s not a student”. Ricki proceeded to introduce herself as teaching faculty at IUBAT and yes in fact, she had been invited.

Insult #2. As a generalization, conversations started by us were almost always put out like water on fire as soon as it became clear that didn’t have a masters.  Without fail, question one of any conversation is “Do you have a masters”? and when the answer is “No” we proceed to jail and do not pass GO and we do not collect 200$.

Insult #3. Session one was just beginning. We had been out on the front deck speaking with a visiting professor from Simon Fraser University. Seeing that there were no more chairs available, Ricki went out to get one. Upon return to the meeting room,  a small but vicious woman sprang out of no where  and attempted to rip the chair out of her hands. When Ricki held her position fast- looking confused and alarmed, the small woman eventually gave up the fight, appearing alarmed herself that Ricki didn’t give in, and stormed away in a huff.

This was followed by an angry and sudden appeal for us to “SIT DOWN” which did immediately, again thoroughly confused as to what was taking place.

Insult #4 After the session was over, we ventured back to our room, only to find 4 large women unpacking their bags. We were surprised and smiled saying “ this is our room”. Following this the women gathered together creating somewhat of a wall and glared in our direction. Again we smiled saying “ this is our room”.  This time a hostile “NO IT’S NOT”  came back at us. We decided to do what any good person would and seek clarification from the event organizer that he had in fact assigned us Room 10.  Before we even reached him we heard yelling and shrieking from the formentioned room behind us.  Turns out these women just wanted our room. Period. Just like that. And got it they did. Apparently second class just wasn’t good enough and we- being foreigners and students and useless in their eyes- should be the ones sleeping in second class. We were an easy target. They knew it, and we had to let them win. We’ve learned quickly- choose your battles.

To be continued…