Part 6: One in a Million

January 13, 2022

Choyghoria, Batiaghata

District Khulna, Bangladesh

I enter the fish market. The smells of the daily catch waft through the stale market air and make their way into my nose. This language that has become familiar to me is being yelled from every direction. I push my way through the crowd, now accustomed people’s staring eyes upon my white skin. Every vendor I pass is trying to sell me their finest. A beggar with a baby finds us. With an outstretched hand and pleading eyes, tells us she hasn’t eaten today. Is she truthful? Who is to say? I dig through my bag and find a 10 taka note to give her. I talk to her about her baby and ask her if she has a husband. We move on. The beggar and her baby follow everywhere we go, never faltering until we are outside the market. She never asked for anything more. Some people just need a friend.

So much has happened since the last time I wrote. Christmas, New Years, weddings, revivals... I feel a little overwhelmed when I think about trying to put the last month into words. There has been coming, going, loneliness, love, long days, and starry nights. Where do I begin? Where do I end?

Christmas Day was spent at Shanto’s house. We had church at 9:00 in the morning. Shanto and his three boys had handsome new clothes and fresh haircuts. Shati was wearing a beautiful new Salwar and her face was shining.

On New Year’s day, we went back to Shanto’s. We had a church service and Shati cooked up some beautiful food. Other than that, New Year’s day is just a normal day. No fireworks or homemade bombs at midnight. My friends had their first day of school. Woop woop and hello 2022. I think back to last New Year’s day. We spent the night before playing ping pong and the bean game upstairs at Loren’s house. The next day, New Year’s Day, I spent the whole day on the mountains with my friends. That day, if I could have peered through a looking glass a year into the future, I wouldn’t have believed what I saw.

Weddings: three-day events I can’t possibly describe. So much color. So much music. So much food. On Christmas Day and the two weeks following, our family went to three weddings. (Not all three days of all three weddings, but three different wedding events nonetheless.) The ladies’ gold-gilded jewelry tinkles as they walk. Their brand new sarees rustle around them as they dance. Cyan and magenta colored dust is thrown over the guests, adding more color to everything. The ear-splitting music never wavers. The bride emerges, hiding behind several inches of makeup. The groom has told us she’s beautiful, and someday, we may see her face. But today, all we can see is white powder, fake eyelashes, and gold-gilded jewelry.

Revival meetings: another three-day event, minus the loud music and jewelry. Neil and Ang Brubaker and Daryl and Brenda Toews came from Ohio and Iowa. We all met up in Gopalganj. Seth and I took the bus with all the other young people going from Khulna. It was exactly like one would imagine. I was sitting on a 4x4 inch ledge in the very front, and every time we stopped to collect more passengers, I thought to myself, “This is impossible. They can’t possibly fit more people on this thing.” But everytime, they managed. People standing in the aisles; people sitting on the steps; people sitting on 4x4 inch ledges in the very front. Cheryl often sings “I’m only one in a million.” Here, it really feels like you are just “one in a million.”

The schedule posted on the wall looked like this:

8:30 Breakfast 9:30 Church service 11:00 Cha break Visits 1:00 Lunch Visits 4:00 Cha break 5:30 Church service 7:00 Supper

Oh, how my social life flourished. Not to be dramatic, but I felt like a desert traveler who, being near death, had found a sweet oasis. There is only one member who is youth-aged, and she didn’t make it to revivals, but Miss Trish, Hridoy, Antor and lots of other new friends were there. I was not ready to go home when it was time to leave.

After revivals, the ministers came to our house for 2 days. We took them to Khulna for Biryani and shopping. We took our time, stopping to look at everything we pleased. We stopped to buy some sunglasses from a man. He knew a little English, and this was our exchange: “I feel like, why do you come to Bangladesh? It’s very poor. I feel like I want to come to America. I am a very poor man.” He took off his suit, took his phone out of his pocket, and removed his watch to prove to us that he was indeed a very poor man. All the while he kept repeating, “I am very poor. I feel like I want to go to America.”

“Do you have a house?” Cheryl asked him. He said yes. “Do you have food?” Yes again. “Well then,” Cheryl said, “There is only one more thing you need: The Bible. That will make you a rich man.” She whispered the last thing so the people passing would not hear. His eyes got big, almost as if he were afraid of her.

“No, no, no! I do not need that!” He adamantly replied. We left the poor, poor man with his smartphone, suit coat, and nice watch, and walked away.

We still play badminton every day. Aakash comes bounding into the clearing with a huge smile and snacks in his hand for everyone. Pim saunters in with a mischievous smile, looking for trouble. Shamanto tries to speak English. Ritu, threatening one of her brothers with her favorite stick, rolls her eyes and says the only English phrase she knows: “Stop your mouth!” Mitu drops in, holding someone’s baby. Shohel and Riad pick up their stuff and rush home at the first note of the sundown prayer call.

My sweet winter is leaving me. The heat is teasing its return. Rice harvest is over, and, in every field, stooping men are planting the new crop. The mustard fields dominate the land with their bright yellow blooms.The calves and puppies are growing up, and the Bengalis are

starting to emerge from their winter coats. It hasn’t rained for some time, and all the leaves along the roadside are covered in a layer of dust.

Another big change: Trevor and Lisa Wedel and 4 children landed in BD today. In 2 months, my family will leave me, and Trevor’s will move into the Khulna house. I am not at all looking forward to Trav’s leaving, but I am excited to get to know Trevor’s family. They will live in Dhaka for several months and learn as much Bangla as they can before coming out here. I’m counting on them being fully fluent by the time they come out to the village ;)

!!!FLUFFY ENDING WARNING!!! For those of you who have voiced concern for me and my social life, no need to worry. I am doing just fine. I have friends with whom I talk every single day. I have an amazing co-teacher. :) I have 3 new brothers, who have shown they will protect me from any rude remark or creepy stare that comes my way. I have fallen in love with the people, the culture, and the language. Sure, I get lonely, I get sad, I get grumpy, I get frustrated. Of course, I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss my cats and all the dogs I have claimed for my own. There are moments I wish I could close my eyes and wake up in my parent’s house with my cat staring at me. That will be a nice day. But then, I blink and remember that my time here is too short. I remember all the good things around me and I can’t help but thank God for bringing me here.

Come see me, -Kalli