Bangladesh 2024 pt. 2: Home to Bangladesh

FRIDAY, JUNE 7th, 2024

Khulna, Bangladesh

DAY 1

When I stepped off the plane in Dhaka and into the jet bridge, I knew immediately where I was. That smell… that noise… that heat… it all came back to me.

But, I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I planned on applying for a visa on arrival. I was sick with worry. What if they didn’t give it to me? What if I got turned away? What if I had come all this way, only to turn around and go the way back home?

Nobody else seemed that worried. Lisa and tried to reassure me. “I’m not worried one bit,” she told me.

I walked past the same gate where Trisha and I sat a year ago, waiting to leave. I saw the line we stood in, and I remembered how it felt to be leaving. Even then, I knew I’d be back.

Trevor had paid for an airport employee to meet me at immigration and escort me through the process. I am not special. This happens for everyone. The lines are insane, and Bangladeshis are relentless. They push and shove and try to be first. It’s so much easier when you have someone to fast-track you through. He was waiting for me at the bottom of the elevator, holding a sign that said “Kalli Unruh.”

He took my documents and gave them to the immigration officers. And then, the trouble started. He questioned me out about why was coming. He wondered if I had a hotel reservation, where I was staying, and would I be working while I was here? I told them that my friends were right outside, waiting to pick me up. I could call Trevor if he had any questions. He studied my invitation letter and found some problem with it. “Come with me,” he said sternly. “We have to go upstairs.”

I followed him upstairs, to a room that had a sign saying “Immigration Police.” There were some stern-looking police officers studying different people’s passports and documents. They took my stuff and instructed me to have a seat.

After a long while, they came back. “We need to talk to your friend. Call him and tell him to come.” They sent an officer to meet him and bring him through. Within ten minutes, Trevor appeared wearing his Bangladeshi Panjabi.

I could tell almost instantly that it would be ok. Already, something Trevor had or done seemed to have worked. Maybe it was his Bangladeshi clothes. He told me later that he had let some Bangla slip into the conversation, and the officer had lit up. No matter, now it wasn’t up to me to convince them anymore. Now that I wasn’t by myself, it seemed OK.

They asked Trevor the same questions he had asked me. “She is my cousin,” he said truthfully. “She is coming here to visit my family. She will not be working and she will be returning in twenty-two days.” Once they heard that, they seemed to relax a little bit. They told Trevor to write a letter stating my purpose for visiting. As he was doing that, a younger officer came in. He asked the senior behind the desk, “Will it happen?” I saw the senior officer nod subtly. Maybe it would be ok after all.

They escorted Trevor away, and I had to follow the officers back downstairs to the original immigration officer. He looked at Trevor’s letter, asked me a few more questions, and stamped my passport. Thanks for the prayers.

After that, my helper handed me over to another guy. We skipped the lines and used employee lanes to get to baggage claim. The new helper and I and talked as we waited on my luggage. Already, more than an hour had passed since my flight had arrived, so I was still surprised to see my fellow passengers waiting. I inquired about this to the helper, and he said, “It is shift change. Usually they are slow, but now they are more than slow.” I could tell he was proud of his English.

We waited a little while before my bags came trundling down the belt. Of course, he wouldn’t let me lift a finger. Again, we skipped the lines. He pointed to me as we passed the place where they were scanning the bags, and the worker waved us through without a question.

We walked through the doors into the outside world. The heat hit me like a brick. And the mob. There was truly a mob of people, yelling and pushing to the doors. The airport security was trying to hold them back, as an employee was bringing luggage carts through. They were beeping their horns and yelling and shouting and it was just like I remembered. I couldn’t help but smile.

The helper guy asked me where my people were. I told him they were going to pick me up by the curb (nobody is allowed inside the airport, so everyone receives their family outside). We pushed our way to the curb, me with my backpack, and he with my two suitcases.

I craned my neck over the sea of people and vehicles and tried to find Trevor’s van. They had bought a new one since I left, so I didn’t really even know what I was looking for. Soon, an old man excitedly approached me and said, “I saw your people! They are in the Biye Gari!! (Biye Gari=Wedding car. When someone gets married, they often hire a private car and decorate it with pink ribbons and flower boquets.)

“No, no,” I told the uncle. “I did see that biye gari, but those are not my people.” I figured it was some other foreigners who he thought were with me.

I kept looking for my people, and soon, my helper pointed over the crowd. “There!” He said. “There they are!” He was right. There came Whitney, Brandi, and Kylie, all smiles. Whitney was dressed in a shiny green saree. I exclaimed over how tall they’d gotten (auntie move) as they led me to the van.

Soon, Lisa appeared in the crowd. She pointed to the Biye Gari and said “Here we are!” Turns out, the Biye Gari was them after all!” I absolutely roared. I laughed so hard and everyone stared. But I didn’t care one bit.

We made our way out of the airport mess. It was like nothing had changed at all. I felt like I had never left! I told them about my trip and about my visa issues and about the looks of admiration Trevor received from the immigration police. They had told him he was “20% Bengali.”

We went to North End (!) for breakfast. For a whole year, I have been waiting for my salted caramel latte and roast beef sandwich. We got there just as they were opening, and they did not disappoint. Once I sank my teeth into that sandwich, all the trouble was worth it.

We drove home then. It was so good to be back. I thought of the way I had felt when I left: the determination to be back. I thought of all the hours of overtime and weekends I put in at my job, wondering if I’d actually make enough money for the tickets. I thought about the last year in America, how I had worked toward this moment for the entire year. Now, it was finally before my very eyes— at my fingertips.

When we pulled into our little road, I started recognizing people. And then, we met my favorite van driver on the road. We rolled down the window, and I said, “Hi Uncle! How are you!”

The look on his face… if I had turned around right then and went back to America, the look on his face would have made the whole trip worth it. “Aha!” he said, and burst out laughing. “I’m not letting you leave again!”

We pulled into our gate and I was reunited with my dog. He was howling and barking with glee. I’m not sure if he remembered me or not, but I’m going to guess that he did. :)

Tulshi, the guard, invited me to come to his house later on. His sister-in-law, Ety, was one of my dearest friends, so I made cookies and walked over with the girls. Many people along the path were surprised to see me. Tulshi had wanted to keep it a surprise from the village, and he had succeeded for the most part.

I sat with Ety for a while, and then we walked back home. Jared and Briana and their family had arrived from Dhaka. Fellowship, the annual meeting of all the members in Bangladesh, was scheduled to start the next day.

Trevor brought us his favorite beef curry for supper, and then we went to bed. I felt like I had a slightly long day, but what a perfect day it had been.

Love from Bangladesh,

-Kalli Sue