We Found Dhaka Today

Mom and I went for a walk together at lunchtime.  In the morning we usually walk straight down Lane 5 to the pond in DOHS, our neighborhood.  Sometimes in the evening we turn left when we leave Lane 5 and go to the Pick and Pay shopping area or to Gulshan Lake.  When Dad takes me to school, the van takes us left as well, and we see many of the areas of Gulshan.

Today Mom turned right.  For five blocks, we were in DOHS looking at apartment buildings and a street that is swept every day.  For the next hour we were in real Dhaka.  When we left the gate of our neighborhood, the road curved to the right.  On the south side of the road, there were dozens of rickshaw wallahs waiting there to take us wherever we needed to go.  On the north side, between the railroad tracks and us, were shacks; bamboo, burlap and plastic shacks.  If there had been more, it would have looked like Tijuana or Enseñada or Kathmandu, but there were only twenty or so, the number that could fit in the small strip of dirt before the railroad tracks.  After these, we saw small stalls spilling over with long beans, spinach, cucumbers and papayas and alternating with dimly lit barbershops hosting caroms games behind half curtains. 

For the next hour we wandered through dirt and brick alleys lined by tailors, more barbershops, TV shops, baskets of live chickens, piles of chicken feet, abandoned buildings, potted vegetables, rickshaw makers and people.  One group of women carrying empty water bottles followed us for about ten minutes chattering away.   A boy about four years older than I kept running ahead of Mom so he could stare back at me.  Men and women said “baby” and “good baby” as we walked by.  One man tried to sell Mom what she thinks was some type of water lily and was at least twice as tall as me.  He was using a short machete to explain this.  One man walked by with a parrot in a cage.  Three women stopped eating their curry yellow dal baht and stared at my feet hanging out of my carrier as we passed their shack.

I hope that I learn to talk with these people, to ask about their lives and hear about their beliefs.  Many have probably never left this area of the city, but I’m sure I have a lot to learn from them about living when life can be hard and about priorities.  I hope that I also have some of God's love to share with them.  I'm just not sure how.