Day 7 - Finally Tears Come

Some days here are more difficult than others. I finally had one of my difficult days. I knew it was coming but it still hit me harder than I had expected.
I am learning so much here. About Bangladesh, about politics, about myself. I am beginning to wonder how much stamina I actually have. I have always prided myself on being strong, but am I?

The frustration here is twofold. The world here is corrupt from the top right down to the bottom. I don't know if corrupt is even a word that exists in Bengali because it seems to be a part of their culture. This is the kind of place where you can do anything if you have enough money. They do not understand why, if they have money, why we cannot help them get into Canada. And theft is rampant right from the top of the government down to the poorest orphanage. I will explain. If you want to do anything in Bangladesh it is possible if you pay the right government official enough money. If you live in an orphanage in Dhaka, your bed-mate may steal your underwear. Now do you see?

My second frustration is the lack of care of the children. They all need so much attention, it is exhausting. When Kristen and I go to visit the girls house they literally hang off both of us. I am anxious about when she leaves that there will not be enough of me to go around. My job is to give the kids attention, to supervise the staff at the orphanage, to create liasons between FFC and Canadian and Bangladeshi officials...and all in 3 months. The good news is that I am continuing work already begun. But the bad news is that right now there is no volunteer scheduled to follow me.

Yesterday, we spent a lovely afternoon at the Canadian Club, shmoozing with government employees and eating Caesar salad and drinking Heinekin (1). It was another world. Then we returned home to eat Iftar (celebratory Muslim meal after fasting) then eating dinner, then visiting the entire Other House which includes the Special Care Floor.
This floor is the most difficult to see. These are mentally and physically disabled abandoned kids. I don't think that I can begin to describe it. Most are barely clothed, and sit on the floor. They have help from the women we employ but it is so sad. They grab you, hit themselves, rock, and go to the bathroom wherever they are. And this is good care in Bangladesh.

We completed our day by sorting through cockroach infested clothes and handing them out to the children who pretended they were shopping and all said 'Thank you' as they left the room. We finished at 12:30 a.m. I must admit that I came home and cried...my first time.

To all who read this, please don't worry, I am fine, I am lucky. And don't think that I am special for travelling to this place of heaven and hell. Just know that we are all dealt a different hand in life, and one card is simply the location of your birth.