A medical assistant here is more akin to a nurse practitioner in the States: very capable, and often quite experienced, especially in local problems. Marconi, one of the M.A.s, is slim, dark, about my age, and sharply dressed: every crease is crisp, each cuff perfectly in place. His father is a tailor.
He invited me to his family home for lunch and I accepted, not realizing this involved a 14 km sojourn by electric taxi, vangari, and foot that took an hour each way. I passed a very pleasant afternoon today, out in the fields and paddies, listening to the wind in the rice and palms as we walked to his village. Along the way he told a bit of his story.
When he was young, his mother worked as a day laborer and his father taught in a school for tailors. They were very poor, owning no fields with which to feed themselves (each field about the size of my living room). However, his parents worked hard and his father saved for 9 years to purchase two small paddies for the family - a minor fortune.
Marconi studied and excelled in primary school, earning the opportunity to attend upper grades 30 km away in Dinajpur for free. Placing second in his class there, he was sponsored for university in Dhaka. Finishing, he applied to LAMB for the (then free) MA training. Finishing that, he has worked here 6 days a week for 11 years, earning a respectable $157/month.
In that time he has: bought his father a small space (6'x8') in nearby Joshi to open a tailor shop, put his brother through MA school (no longer free), and been the primary breadwinner for his extended family. He is now married, has two daughters, one of which attends school at LAMB (expensive) and they spend the work week living near LAMB. They rent a single room here for $17.14/month: any more than that and his daughter would have to attend the local primary school, about which he says, "That is not good".
Here's an image for Bangladesh today: A slim young man in a tattersall shirt that could be L.L. Bean, sharp slacks, small briefcase, talking quietly on his mobile phone as he threads his way between lush rice paddies, past goats and chickens, and up to his home village of mud daub and wattle houses.
He invited me to his family home for lunch and I accepted, not realizing this involved a 14 km sojourn by electric taxi, vangari, and foot that took an hour each way. I passed a very pleasant afternoon today, out in the fields and paddies, listening to the wind in the rice and palms as we walked to his village. Along the way he told a bit of his story.
When he was young, his mother worked as a day laborer and his father taught in a school for tailors. They were very poor, owning no fields with which to feed themselves (each field about the size of my living room). However, his parents worked hard and his father saved for 9 years to purchase two small paddies for the family - a minor fortune.
Marconi studied and excelled in primary school, earning the opportunity to attend upper grades 30 km away in Dinajpur for free. Placing second in his class there, he was sponsored for university in Dhaka. Finishing, he applied to LAMB for the (then free) MA training. Finishing that, he has worked here 6 days a week for 11 years, earning a respectable $157/month.
In that time he has: bought his father a small space (6'x8') in nearby Joshi to open a tailor shop, put his brother through MA school (no longer free), and been the primary breadwinner for his extended family. He is now married, has two daughters, one of which attends school at LAMB (expensive) and they spend the work week living near LAMB. They rent a single room here for $17.14/month: any more than that and his daughter would have to attend the local primary school, about which he says, "That is not good".
Ben -
ReplyDeleteThis is a very moving account of what must be more the norm than not...such sacrifice and duty -- and all without fanfare. Inspiring...thanks for taking the time to write it down for us all. Blessings, Dad