Tropical disease course

This is TB (the little red rods)

I arrived somewhat sleep deprived (15 hrs in the last 3 days) just before midnight last night in Baltimore to a bear hug from my friend Andy.  Despite knowing only that my course in tropical medicine began at 8:30am, but not where, exactly, I did make it there in time for the first lecture. Turns out out they had my email address wrong, but also that they didn't inform everyone who's address they had correct until 4 days ago.  Almost feels like Bangladesh already :-D

This week is TB and HIV: today covered several things including multi-drug resistance, socioeconomic effects, prophylaxis, testing, public health approaches etc.  I was riveted.  I just might be in the right profession.

Hurly-Burly

What had the bunny seen?  Did he know too much?  

This has the feel of a real whodunnit.

In the hurly-burly of preparing the 1,422 different things that need to occur in the next months, there are some fun moments.  Four kids provide innumerable humorous interludes.

As we prepare to return to work in Bangladesh, we often feel quite small.

Our children often have the experience of feeling small next to large things.   They feel surrounded by forces and movements they barely comprehend or cannot perceive, yet they trust us to provide and prepare for them.

Abar dekha hobe

"See you again"

We are leaving LAMB tomorrow, so for now, "Abar dehka hobe."

Evening

"Kids asleep?"
"Yes"
"Ready?"
"Yup"
"OK...Go!"

The commute home

As a parent of four, you can easily imagine that peace and quiet are long sought and seldom found.  The two are linked in both our language and common experience: sometimes the quietest and most peaceful moment of my day is the commute home.  It is often a time for reflection.

If I feel restless, have difficulty doing the simplest tasks, or can't collect my thoughts, it is often because I have not bookended my day with quiet time.  Making margin in my life necessary to do this usually requires making decisions, but seeking quiet time makes a difference.

Simplicity is closely related: mental quietness.  I admire the simplicity of action following belief.  What do you believe?  Look at your actions.  What kind of tree is it?  Look at its fruit.  It's a simple principle, but suggests hard decisions.  That's probably what it takes to walk peacefully home.

A precious gift

One of my dear ayahs came in the door with a bowl of small green leaves yesterday.  When I asked her what it was for, she replied that she had no money to buy me a birthday gift, and so putting the henna-like stain of the leaves on my hand in the traditional Bangladeshi village style (not the fancy swirls we have seen before) would be her gift to me.

The leaves were ground with a rolling pin on a rough stone slab.

She then applied the green paste to the ends of the fingers of my left hand and a big circle on my palm.  Both the ayahs did the same to their own left hands.

An hour later, when the leaf paste was washed off, their fingertips and palms were a lovely red.  Mine were a vivid ORANGE!

Apparently, even after the color fades from my skin, my fingernails will remain stained.  They assured me that it looks quite beautiful as it grows out.  I have to wonder what people in the States will think!

Dear friends and I have remarked in the past that it can be a delight to give the gift of an experience, rather than a material thing, to mark an occasion.  Our ayahs have shared their lives and culture with us and worked like crazy to keep us clothed, fed, and in a tidy home.  But this one heartfelt gesture is sealed in my heart forever as a mark of true affection.
  

Marconi

  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.  

Birthday!

This March 26th is both Mary's 4th birthday and Bangladesh Independence Day.

She thought that all the festivities, activities and cultural events were for her.

We are deeply grateful for her.

A gratuitous photo of Annie in a Sari (or re-purposed orna).

Practice for reentry

We are less than a week out from leaving LAMB and experienced folk have warned us that it will take more than just recovering from jetlag to reacclimate to the West.  We've discussed what that might look like.  Here's one idea:

"I'd like a tall skim latte"

"Tall skim latte, OK, that'll be eight dollars and fifteen cents at the first window"

"For that coffee? Are you kidding? I'll offer you 50 cents"

"Huh? It's $8.15, sir"

"Give me a break. OK, how about 85 cents?"

or this:

"Laura, what's wrong with this food - does it taste funny to you?"

"I don't know - just doesn't look right...wait, it's not yellow!"

So the occasion of receiving a package from Maine (more than 3 weeks in transit!) seemed a fitting one to begin the process gently.

Mac 'n cheese

It might have been too much of a shock if it weren't yellow.  

And this speaks for itself.