Tuesday, March 22, 2016

A Strange Land



“It’s so hot, I’m covered in sweat!” Sara said to her mother.  They had just landed in Bangladesh and were waiting in the customs line at the airport. Sara felt tired after their long flight.  She couldn’t wait to unpack some thinner clothes when they got to their new apartment.  

"Who es your husband?"  The customs officer asked her mother in a strange, lilting accent.

"I am unmarried."  Her mother said.

"I will need to know the name of your father."  He replied.

Sara’s eyes pricked with tears at the original question as her father had passed away after a brief and painful battle with cancer just over two years ago.  She had come to Bangladesh with her mother to help them take their minds off the gaping hole his death had caused in their lives.  But now she wasn’t so sure they had made the right decision.

“I want to go home.” she said to her mother as they walked away from him.

“We only just arrived, Sara, give it a chance.” said her mother.

As they collected their luggage, Sara noticed hundreds of male faces outside the glass walls of the large airport.  They were very tidily dressed, small in stature, and wide eyed.  Some of them were holding hands and leaning on each other.  Some talking animatedly, but many were just staring.  

“Why are they all here?” Sara asked their driver but his English was so heavily accented that she couldn’t understand his response.  

They were driving on the road now and the noises and colours were intense.  Brightly painted trucks and rickshaws, overly-dented cars.  People everywhere.  Bells and horns.  In her over-tired state, Sara felt faint and ill.  

Their new apartment provided some peace from the crazy outside but it felt sterile.  It was furnished with wicker furniture, blank walls, and tiled, empty floors.  

Sara’s sleep was broken by the strangeness of everything that night.  The smells were almost a taste in the air that she couldn’t recognise.  There were so many unusual noises: hundreds of rickshaw bells, the call to prayer, hoiking on the streets, loud yet unaggressive shouts.  And the heat, it was as though she could never drink enough water to cool herself.  She wondered if this new life would ever feel ordinary.

“It’s time to go.” Called her mother.  

Sara grabbed her water bottle as they left the apartment.  A teacher from the school had offered to show them ‘Old Dhaka’ – the bustling ancient part of the city.  Stepping outside, Sara felt alive and excited.  She had been promised they would spend most of the day on various local transport – rickshaws, boats, van gari; shopping for a saweer kameez – the commonly worn clothing for women; and eating local food.  

As they stepped up onto the rickshaw – a colourfully decorated chariot pulled by a bicycle – she felt a smile stretching across her face.  They had just sat down and the driver took off twinkling his bell.  As he wove through traffic and took corners at break-neck speed, Sara was exhilarated.  She could barely believe this was her new home.

Friday, March 4, 2016

A moment in someone's life



“NO! Them’s mine! Them’s mine! Jax!” I feel mad.  Jack is stealing all my blocks from my bootiful castle. 

“Them’s mine! Get off, get off!”  Mummy’s not paying me any ‘tention so I make sure she can hear me this time. These blocks are dumb.  I push them off the table and go get Ellie and Blankie.  

“Come on, Ellie, you need go to bed.”  Blankie fits comfy around Ellie and I think it will be a good idea to put them in my hut.

“HEYWHATHAPPENEDTOMYHUT!”

“Oh, I had to do that, Aria, I needed the chair for lunch.”

“But it’s all messed up and I need to put Ellie to bed.”

“Okay okay, let me put it together for you again.”

“And I need some nice music to play so I can be a fairy and dance while Ellie goes to bed.”

“Yes, yes.”

“My nice music I want to dance and be a fairy.”

“Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum! Jack’s got my dress he’s got my dress he’s got my dress.” Ouch, why did I fall over? “I falled over!”

“Okay, everyone pack up.  Let’s go upstairs to bed.”

But I’m not tired! “I’m not tired! I’m not tired. I’M NOT TIRED.”

“Okay.  But it’s bed time so come on, we’re not going to have time for stories.”
No stories? “No stories?” I run to the stairs. “But Jax won’t come! Jax isn’t coming.”

“He’s coming, hurry up, get on the potty.”

“I’m not tired!”

“NOW.”


My name is Aria Grace. I have bootiful curly hair.  My mummy tells me Ari. Sometimes she tells me monkey.  I’m two and a half and next I’ll be five.    Before I’m five I’ll be three.  I’ve got May.  Daddy’s got Sep’ber.  Mummy and Jax have Jan’ry.  It’s my birthday soon.  I want a purple hoola hoop at Dollar Tree like I show mummy.  Mummy told me bed time but I’m not tired so I’m playing.  I’m reading. And sewing. I’m really good at sewing. And one day I can read but not yet. I don’t always know what da pikchas saying. Ellie needs another song. Maybe he’d like Row row row boat. Or Twinkle lil’ star.  No Row.  I sing Row.

“Ari. Aaaaaari. It’s time to wake up.  We’re going to see the big boys now.”

I open one eye and close it again. I’m sleeping now, mummy. But she’s patting my back. I’m sleep, I’m sleep.  

“Let’s go potty and I have a snack for you, Ari. Goldfish and raisins.”

“And I want some cheese.” I told her.

“Yes, cheese too.  Let’s go, Ari.”

I crawl into her lap for a cuddle. I want her stop talking but she doesn’t.

“Maybe we should take your bike.  Would that be a good idea, Ari? Should we take your bike?”