Go Away From My Window
A bunch of us went to the movies last night at the grandest mall in Bangladesh. It's strange to see so many middle and upper class Bangladeshi's in one spot, dressed to the nines, promenading as much as shopping. The escalators are a particular spot of entertainment. Some people have never been on one and it takes a long minute before they dare place a foot squarely in the centre of one of those moving rectangles that is about to turn into a step. Even those who have done it before are very deliberate about placing their feet perfectly on a step, as though the escalator might get out of control if we aren't careful with it.
The movie was about a British Bangladeshi returning to Bangladesh. The footage of Dhaka was impressive, giving a decent impression of riding a rickshaw and the crowdedness of Old Dhaka. The emotional journey of the young man got a little tedious though. We got bored towards the end so Annabel and I took a picture.
As we left the Theatre Charlene and Sandra conspired to get Ali and myself home in a car, instead of leaving us to catch an illusive cab outside the mall in the middle of the night. (Thanks guys!)
The street kids outside the mall took advantage of the terrible traffic to beg through the car window. "Hello-money-bakshish, Hello-money-bakshish, Hello-money-bakshish! Two, no, ten! Ten piece moneys!" The kids are persistent. They run after the car during the green lights so that they can hang on our windows during the red lights. They make us uncomfortable, but we don't give any taka. We do talk to them.
"What is your name?" "Sulema" (a girls name) says the little boy.
"How old are you?" "one, or maybe two. Give me money, the baby is crying" He started to fake cry, which as we started to laugh turned into giggles.
"No, I won't give you money, do you study in school?" "yes...no, I don't have money, give some bakshish"
"No, I don't give money, but can I take your picture?"
He and the little girl next to him had fun posing for pictures for a few minutes before the traffic picked up and left them far behind us.
It's hard to treat these kids like real people. They are annoying and persistent and guilt-inducing. It's so hard not to roll up the window and ignore them, or give them two taka (4 cents) and let them move on to the next car.
It's hard to think that these kids have families and relationships that matter. To grasp that it is equally horrific when they are beaten or raped as it would be for one of the adolescents I work with. Yet "they" say that 100% of street kids are physically and sexually abused.
What is the right thing to do? I try to convince myself that the work we are doing- to change the systematic injustices, to empower the poor, to create caring communities might help change the situations of street kids one day, but the truth is I don't know.
The movie was about a British Bangladeshi returning to Bangladesh. The footage of Dhaka was impressive, giving a decent impression of riding a rickshaw and the crowdedness of Old Dhaka. The emotional journey of the young man got a little tedious though. We got bored towards the end so Annabel and I took a picture.
As we left the Theatre Charlene and Sandra conspired to get Ali and myself home in a car, instead of leaving us to catch an illusive cab outside the mall in the middle of the night. (Thanks guys!)
The street kids outside the mall took advantage of the terrible traffic to beg through the car window. "Hello-money-bakshish, Hello-money-bakshish, Hello-money-bakshish! Two, no, ten! Ten piece moneys!" The kids are persistent. They run after the car during the green lights so that they can hang on our windows during the red lights. They make us uncomfortable, but we don't give any taka. We do talk to them.
"What is your name?" "Sulema" (a girls name) says the little boy.
"How old are you?" "one, or maybe two. Give me money, the baby is crying" He started to fake cry, which as we started to laugh turned into giggles.
"No, I won't give you money, do you study in school?" "yes...no, I don't have money, give some bakshish"
"No, I don't give money, but can I take your picture?"
He and the little girl next to him had fun posing for pictures for a few minutes before the traffic picked up and left them far behind us.
It's hard to treat these kids like real people. They are annoying and persistent and guilt-inducing. It's so hard not to roll up the window and ignore them, or give them two taka (4 cents) and let them move on to the next car.
It's hard to think that these kids have families and relationships that matter. To grasp that it is equally horrific when they are beaten or raped as it would be for one of the adolescents I work with. Yet "they" say that 100% of street kids are physically and sexually abused.
What is the right thing to do? I try to convince myself that the work we are doing- to change the systematic injustices, to empower the poor, to create caring communities might help change the situations of street kids one day, but the truth is I don't know.
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