banglabradbury

Last night we watched The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel for our weekly movie night. One film commentator describes the film as being about ‘seven British retirees who travel to Jaipur, Rajisthan, India to live in a restored “luxury” hotel for the elderly. Predictably, their expectations are not met — the hotel is a shambles and its future in doubt — and just as predictably, the characters who take up the challenges thrown at them find a new, unexpected life’. It follows the idea of ‘outsourcing’ your older years to another country – it is especially poignant in a part of the world where our experience has been that people here have such a lovely and important respect for older people.

Viewing the film again through a slightly more informed perspective was interesting. It is, of course, full of stereotypes, cliches and caricatures and this is sometimes annoying. However, if you can get past all of these you see an entertaining but poignant film about how people interact with culture in different ways and a sensitive and humorous exploration of ageing. One the group, Evelyn, keeps a blog about the group’s many adventures during their time in India. She and one of the others in the thrown together group, Graham, are on different journeys but jump into life in Asia. Evelyn starts by writing that ‘India is an assault on the senses. It’s like a wave; resist and you go under, ride it out and you arrive at the others side.’ This has been exactly our experience in Bangladesh.

As soon as we got to the plane from Dubai to Dhaka we knew things were going to be different. Entering the security area and being asked to carry on something for a Bangladeshi man as the 7kg hand luggage limit was not going to cater for the three boxes he had. Of course, we politely declined and then boarded the plane as one of the first due to being accompanied by small children (although how much longer we are going to get away with that now is debatable). Sitting on the Dhaka bound plane and watching the unusual chaos of the boarding and seating process play out before our eyes, we knew things were going to be different. We decided as a family at that point, we were going to try and embrace it all and give it our best shot. So chaos became vibrancy, strangeness become curiousity and inevitably problems are indeed challenges.

When I lie in my bed at night I can hear trains hooters, car horns, security guards’ whistles, the mosque calling people to prayer, people talking, rickshaw bells, low flying planes flying overhead (we live at the end of the airport runway) and men loudly clearing their throats as the morning approaches. This is just the noise. When you take a wander round the streets of Dhaka and witness the smells, the vivid colours, the flavours, the unrelenting high rise buildings, the unending traffic, the stares, the smiles, the smog, the crowdedness, the heat, the vehicle fumes, the different understanding of personal space, the street foods and much much more, it all converges to this ‘assault on the senses’ and sometimes has the capacity to overwhelm us.

But there was this one line that caught my heart in particular.

Jean: “How can you bear this country? What do you see that I don’t?”

Graham: “The light, colors, the smiles, it teaches me something.”

High Court Judge Graham is able to absorb the breathtaking beauty that is India and Asia. He is interested in the place and focussed on the people. Despite his lofty profession and years of experience, he is still ready to learn. So today we have been here exactly six months. Despite previous experience living and working overseas, I have had to be willing to be more teachable than at any other point in my life.

Consequently I have had some beautiful conversations with my resilient children sitting on the back of a rIckshaw including my 9 year old daughter teaching me how to count to 10 in Banga during one trip. We have tried to learn some of the history, language and culture, embraced spicy Bangla food, allowed ourselves time and opportunity to really look around and above all, try and get connected with people instead of immediately trying to always figure out and fix things.

I have had to reconsider what the international Salvation Army actually looks like in a vastly different culture. I am trying to be more patient with myself and others and accept that things might take longer than I would want them to. Most importantly though is that one of the things I have learnt is that each place has its beauty of its own and in almost all situations, it is seen first and foremost in its people. That has certainly been the case in beautiful Bangladesh.

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar

Raymond Lindquist

This week we have spent time reviewing our Refugee Response Programme to the Rohingya people currently living in sprawling refugee camps in Bangladesh.

Initially when the Solar Light Project was set up, its aim was to provide light for people to safely carry out their daily routines, especially in the evenings, using sustainable and clean energy. In our review, families spoke of the benefit of being able to cook together, eat together, pray together and talk together. Women told us about how they felt much more protected at night time, the light providing at least some level of defence against men who would sexually harass, assault and abuse them. Thousands of children are still separated from their parents or primary caregivers and are living in child headed households. They told us they felt safer having the light on at night as they drifted off to sleep, just like many kids around the world. It also eased the thought of potential violence and trafficking. People told us they did not need to like fires or use kerosene in their makeshift homes to be able to see, thus preventing potential actions and injuries. Our project fell in the ‘Protection’ category; this was the purpose of the whole project and given the positive feedback from everyone, we were feeling rather satisfied with ourselves.

Then this! One man told us that that night time was a time of significant psychological stress for many people in the camp due to their experience in Myanmar. Most of the violence, the murders, the rapes had taken place in darkness. He told us he was anxious at night time. He humbly told me how the simple light we had supplied helped relieve and avoid psychological stresses for him and many other who had lost family members in the night.

Often we are so busy trying to meet the immediate practical needs of people who are refugees / homeless / victims / (add a range of categories) here, we forget that first and foremost they are people. In not recognizing their basic humanity, we forget and devalue their feelings, their relationships and their pain. We rob people of their dignity. We somehow make out that they are some sort of subcategory, less worthy and less vulnerable. The trauma was clearly so enormous for many. I talked to one women who, while she was hiding, watched as her husband was blindfolded, beaten and beheaded. Pain was etched all over her face and I was holding back tears as she spoke. What became clear from my conversation with this mother was that the Rohingya refugees are suffering from flashbacks, trauma anxiety, agitation, acute stress, recurring nightmares, guilt, sometimes not being able to sleep or eat. Others could not speak at all. As one organisation described the masses of people living in the camp; they are a distressed population.

When you dig a bit further there are many different types of trauma experienced by individuals. We heard some truly horrific stories. Then there is the collective trauma the Rohingya refugees face including displacement, being in limbo and not getting a clear message about the future and, according to a study by the IOM working with refugees, 40 percent of refugees cited “not being recognised as citizens” as psychologically destabilising

I am no expert in this field, but mental health and emotional well-being, like many places around the world, seems a very neglected and stigmatised discussion in Bangladesh generally, where it seems there is little by way of awareness, national policy or budget allocation for mental health care. When you couple this together with the conditions everyone is confronted with in the Refugee Camp, it is no surprise that most of us working in the camps dealt with the immediate needs: basic shelter, food and water. It is the easier option. The man we interviewed told us that Roningya people do not seek help citing mental health problems. He advised that he came from a culture where mental pain, depression and trauma are never talked about. There is no pressure from anywhere really to consider emotional wellbeing.

When you arrive in the camp, you cannot helped but be touched by squalid, overcrowded conditions, where people struggle to access food and water, and essentially they are trapped. And then you see that more people are still arriving. Of course, you want to do something and I for one am proud that The Salvation Army responded in a small but effective way.

But looking back, we wonder whether we could have added another component, something that was more relational, to this project as it would have tied in nicely with the solar lamp project. Our organisational value in Bangladesh stresses our holistic approach, so we need to look beyond the immediate / physical needs in emergency situations and see if there is any way we can also provide psychosocial and spiritual support to those we have assisted and built relationships with. I have learnt this week that a more progressive and holistic effort is required in designing our emergency response programmes. It was a hard but good lesson to learn. We are well-positioned to provide essential psychosocial and spiritual support.

The situation is still pretty desperate. The people in the camp, stuck and becoming increasingly restless with nowhere to go. Somehow we need to find a way to stay with them, to support them practically and psychologically and to make sure they know they are not forgotten and that we still care.