Reality vs. Perception

Had an interesting conversation with a Bengali coworker this week. They were telling me that when a certain former coworker of ours left they told my Bengali coworker a lie which they believed and it made them despise MCC. Eventually my Bengali coworker over time came to realize that the former coworker had manipulated them and that MCC really is a good organization that wouldn't do the kind of thing they were accused of. They also told me that some of our other workers have perceptions of MCC that are probably wrong because of their limited knowledge of the same situation. For those of you who know me well, you know that I hate miscommunication of this nature. Unfortunately for my tastes, I was also raised by my father to bear in mind when privacy matters due to my position as an employee. It is hard sometimes but you've got to let perceptions be perceptions and hope that reality changes those over time. I mean, one thing I have learned and appreciate about MCC from my time spent with them thus far is how kind they are. I see the organization quietly live out that reality even if you can't always see that on the surface. It takes some time to notice sometimes but it is there if you stick around long enough.

Sorry, this blog post was all about relieving some stress. This has been a week of a lot of thinking and challenges for me. That hasn't stopped it from being a good week, just a week of a lot of thinking...

Our Moments

Have you ever had moments that you will forever remember? Of course you do. It happens to all of us. Mostly it comes around times of tragedy (where were you when JFK was shot or on 9/11). Sometimes it comes at good times (like the memory of getting a new bike for Christmas!). This week I've had two "moments" to remember. One or both might be classified as tragedy or good times.

The first happened while I was getting a haircut on Saturday. I was sitting there as usual. The barber was working his way from the left side of my head where he always starts to the right side. Suddenly he stopped and began poking at the side of my head while staring quite intently at it. I asked him what was up? He responded, "paca." I thought he might have meant, "poca" which means bug. I thought, "oh great! now I have head lice!" He managed to catch it on his scissors and show it to me after a bit more poking. It was a white hair! It was only then that I understood he meant "paca" as in "spoiled" or "not good." Bengali people don't normally like white hair and will do anything to avoid it. This was my first gray hair.

The second happened on Sunday night. Again, I was at home doing my usual thing. Just whipping up a batch of frosting for some cake that I had made. All of the sudden my fridge starts shaking and I'm thinking to myself, "that stupid compressor motor is vibrating awfully hard." Then it gets worse and I notice that everything is shaking! Then I finally realize that this is an earthquake. You better believe I got my butt out of that house pretty quickly when I realized that. Buildings in Bangladesh aren't known for being well built and there is something about several tons of brick and concrete that I don't particularly care to be smashed under. I vividly remember walking pretty fast down the hallway leading to my front door while everything around my seemed to look like Jello. Those few moments as my landlord, neighbor, and I scrambled outside got my heart to pumping pretty good.

Those are a few moments I'll probably never forget. Have any you want to share with me?

Balance

I just realized that I didn't post last week. Chalk that one up to having gone to Dhaka and back. I've come back to Bogra and have no intentions to leave again until October. I've done far too much traveling thus far since returning. To be fair, much of that was out of a desire to see Esther which is always there. Unfortunately for her, I really do need to stay in Bogra and rest sometimes. I'm a homebody. I find traveling enjoyable, but I also find it tiring. That may seem odd considering I now live abroad but it is true none-the-less. Some people get antsy after they have been in a place for awhile. They want to move on and do something else. The longer I'm in a place the more comfortable I get there. That also means that I have to be careful of a few things in life. I have to be mindful that settling down isn't always good for you and that change isn't something to fear. Growing comfortable often leads to a softness in oh so many ways. At the same time, change for the sake of change can be foolishness. As the old saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Maybe that is the ultimate challenge in life; telling the difference between when something is appropriately balanced and when something in our lives is broke. Sometimes, however, it is easy to tell. I was exhausted, so I'm resting in Bogra for the next couple of weeks. Praise the Lord for the easy to tell ones!

Poetic

Sometimes I feel very poetic about Bangladesh. One instance in which this constantly happens for me is in crossing over the Jamuna bridge. Whenever I pass over the huge Jamuna river I am always in awe of how big and powerful it is. Yet despite all this might, there is a tiny village on an island in the middle right in sight of the bridge. Most islands are torn away and moved constantly by the violent and aggressive flow that comes with each rainy season but this island survives with its tiny village intact. To give you more scope and scale, in Bangladesh the cost of building a bridge across the big rivers is mostly in "taming" the rivers rather than in the bridges themselves. A monumental effort must be made to barricade the banks for miles just to keep the river from destroying the banks between which the river flows. If these barricades fail like one did in floods that happened in 2007, a half-mile square section of river bank can disappear in the matter of a few hours or days. What a mighty thing this earth that God created is. Unfortunately, the machines of man are no where near so powerful and that would be why my bus broke down when we got to the far side of the river. This did a pretty good job of killing my poetic mood. The hour long wait by the edge of the road for the next bus owned by the company I was traveling with finished it off.