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.