‘Sup fresh it’s our turn baby [cue The Devil Wears Prada’s version of “Still Fly”],
And you thought I was awkward in the States! Ha! You don’t even KNOW!
And you thought I was awkward in the States! Ha! You don’t even KNOW!
Here I thought I’d share with you some of these happenings from my experience at LAMB.
- Out of habit, I often put my writing utensil behind my ear. Easy enough to keep in place. Even better when my hair is long enough to conceal it in the curls, though I did not have those because of the heat. But it seems every single Bangladeshi teacher commented on the practice and thought it strange, laughing at the practice at times. Whatevs ;)
- I grew more and more confused on proper greetings with people. I knew I couldn’t hug the women I was around, though I could sometimes shake teachers’ hands. However, when I tried on the field at a maternal clinic, they said it was culturally inappropriate, but that they’d let it slide. I think I’m just gonna go for a general acknowledgement/head nod in the future :P
- One day, there was a man that kept trying to offer me some sort of purple fruits. As I left the gates of the compound, he offered them to me, and I put my hand up and said, “no thank you.” He then proceeded to follow beside me walking for five minutes speaking in Bangla, and I told him once more, no thank you, and then looked straight ahead at the road. He began laughing and shouting, “excuse me” and “hellooooo” in English until we reached the railroad tracks. To say the least, I felt uncomfortable, but I’m glad nothing came of it.
- So there’s a community of men in Bangladesh that cross dress, wearing saris like the women do here. One of these men was scaring some of the children near where I was staying, cursing in Bangla and in English, so I decided to be with them for a time. He walked up to me, winked, and threw me a kiss. I scowled and prayed that God would release him. I know these men need the love of Christ, and part of me wishes I had shown it further to this man, but at the same time, I wanted to demonstrate to the children that they did not need to fear him.
- And perhaps the top most awkward for me: on the teachers’ last official day of school, two Bangladeshi teachers at the school asked me to follow them to the gate of the compound. I thought, “Why not? More time to spend with them before I leave, and then I can say goodbye.” But then they told me that I should follow them out of the gate, “to help them buy something.” I had thought to myself that I would not give any money out like this at the school, though I did want to accompany them long enough to say goodbye. Turns out what they meant was that they were trying to buy a gift for me at random shops. To me, this crossed a different line, the line of appropriate interaction with these teachers (both of whom were female). Yet I could not persuade them otherwise, as they viewed it as a gift for leaving, not knowing when they would see me again. I walked off with a mug and various other wares in my hands, dropped them off at school, and then headed straight to my preceptor’s office to talk about the incident. As both of them were older than me, he explained that they viewed me as a younger brother as opposed to a romantic interest (in Bangladesh, a woman cannot be in a relationship with a man if he is younger than her). I wanted to make sure this was okay culturally and ethically, and though part of me still feels awkward about the situation, I did grow to better understand male-female relationships in the nation. And if that’s what my cultural awkwardness leads to, I think I’m okay with that.
- Out of habit, I often put my writing utensil behind my ear. Easy enough to keep in place. Even better when my hair is long enough to conceal it in the curls, though I did not have those because of the heat. But it seems every single Bangladeshi teacher commented on the practice and thought it strange, laughing at the practice at times. Whatevs ;)
- I grew more and more confused on proper greetings with people. I knew I couldn’t hug the women I was around, though I could sometimes shake teachers’ hands. However, when I tried on the field at a maternal clinic, they said it was culturally inappropriate, but that they’d let it slide. I think I’m just gonna go for a general acknowledgement/head nod in the future :P
- One day, there was a man that kept trying to offer me some sort of purple fruits. As I left the gates of the compound, he offered them to me, and I put my hand up and said, “no thank you.” He then proceeded to follow beside me walking for five minutes speaking in Bangla, and I told him once more, no thank you, and then looked straight ahead at the road. He began laughing and shouting, “excuse me” and “hellooooo” in English until we reached the railroad tracks. To say the least, I felt uncomfortable, but I’m glad nothing came of it.
- So there’s a community of men in Bangladesh that cross dress, wearing saris like the women do here. One of these men was scaring some of the children near where I was staying, cursing in Bangla and in English, so I decided to be with them for a time. He walked up to me, winked, and threw me a kiss. I scowled and prayed that God would release him. I know these men need the love of Christ, and part of me wishes I had shown it further to this man, but at the same time, I wanted to demonstrate to the children that they did not need to fear him.
- And perhaps the top most awkward for me: on the teachers’ last official day of school, two Bangladeshi teachers at the school asked me to follow them to the gate of the compound. I thought, “Why not? More time to spend with them before I leave, and then I can say goodbye.” But then they told me that I should follow them out of the gate, “to help them buy something.” I had thought to myself that I would not give any money out like this at the school, though I did want to accompany them long enough to say goodbye. Turns out what they meant was that they were trying to buy a gift for me at random shops. To me, this crossed a different line, the line of appropriate interaction with these teachers (both of whom were female). Yet I could not persuade them otherwise, as they viewed it as a gift for leaving, not knowing when they would see me again. I walked off with a mug and various other wares in my hands, dropped them off at school, and then headed straight to my preceptor’s office to talk about the incident. As both of them were older than me, he explained that they viewed me as a younger brother as opposed to a romantic interest (in Bangladesh, a woman cannot be in a relationship with a man if he is younger than her). I wanted to make sure this was okay culturally and ethically, and though part of me still feels awkward about the situation, I did grow to better understand male-female relationships in the nation. And if that’s what my cultural awkwardness leads to, I think I’m okay with that.
Peace to you all in Christ,
MJW
MJW
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