In which Tim reflects via the light of a Christmas tree...

It's a beautiful tree. Just the right size, lots of peacefully blinking lights and hand crafted ornaments, and a giant star on top. I prefer stars to angels. My dog is sleeping next to me, and my sister's cat underneath my chair. My parents are in the next room filling up the stockings, pretending to be santa claus. Traditions are nice.

At church tonight, I was moved by a part of the Christmas story that had never really struck me before. I think that in thinking of the Christmas story, many of us tend to pull all the elements from the different gospel accounts, and create one big mental picture out of them. Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wisemen, evil kings, etc. It's a beautiful picture, but in doing that we tend to lose some of the poignancy of the elements contained in the individual accounts.

What struck me was from the story in the second chapter of Luke:

8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord."

Yeah, we all know the story. I've always thought about how cool it was that the birth of Jesus was announced to both the poorest scum of society (shepherds in fields), and the richest of the elite (foreign kings following a star). The funny thing is that Luke's account makes no mention of the star gazing Magi (wisemen). But I think the contrast that we see in this part of Luke is much more extreme than the other one.

In this scene we have humble, poor, probably illiterate shepherds celebrating an event alongside creatures who represent visibly the very glory of the most high. The lowest of society and the highest in the Universe. Wow! How could such a meeting be possible? What event could prompt such a bridging of separate realms? Only the birth of one through whom these two kingdoms could be united. A God-man. The highest of heaven united in the form of flesh and bone with man kind. Jesus Christ.

-------

The pastor at church talked a lot about Bethlehem, and how it was not much but a cow town. The prophet Micah predicted that out of Bethlehem would come one who would rule over all of Israel, restoring the ancient order, and ultimately "be their peace (shalom)". It got me thinking about all the conflict and strife in Israel today. In recent years, even the church of the Nativity has been a battlefield. How many have died? How many must STILL die? We need shalom.

Come, Lord Jesus. That is my prayer as I celebrate your birth. Return, and bring peace where there is conflict, and healing where there is pain. We long to see you.

in which Tim apologizes, tells the news, and picks at his wounds.

I have not written for a long time. I think there are probably several reasons for this, and it will require some reflection to get to them. So to be kind to my readers, I have divided this overdue entry into multiple sections. If you're the kind of person that simply requires the concrete information, "Part 1" is for you. For the rest of you, who enjoy journeying through the messy tangle of philosophical musings, iteresting emotions, and elaborate illustrations that is Tim's mind, I have included "Part 2".

Part 1; The News: I am back on American soil. I arrived home about a week and a half ago, after my flight being delayed 36 hours in Dhaka, and then having to wait an extra 14 hours in London. It was no short journey, but all's well that ends well I suppose. Between piling on layers of clothing to escape these un-Godly temperatures, and pretending to do the homework that I should be doing, I spend an awful lot of time being bored. Please feel free to call or visit if you want to hear stories, tell stories, or just hang out.

Part 2; Why I've not written in a while: I am an extreme extrovert, which I am told means that I do much of my processing outside of my head. My preferred mediums are speech, journaling, and occasionally blogging. Having a brain that doesn't often stop, I usually spend an awful lot of my time either talking or journaling. Those who know me well can tell that when I stop talking it usually means that I am avoiding thinking about something. When situations are confusing or frustrating, sometimes avoidance seems like an awfully convenient solution. Just yesterday I realized that I haven't blogged, journaled, or engaged in extremely deep conversation for a long time, and that I needed to figure out why. So I guess this blog is kind of like me picking at a scab to figure out what's going on underneath...

Some of you know that I have something that I like to call "disengagement syndrome". It means I have trouble knowing how to say goodbye to people and places. It probably comes from having moved around quite a bit as a child, and still feeling the pain of lost friends and beloved places that all become just a memory. The solution I came up with (subconciously) to avoid the pain of parting with people or places was to just unplug when my time in a certain situation is coming to an end. I sort of pull into myself, becoming less outgoing and more elusive. This is one of the reasons that I am never at my best during spring finals week.

With the help of some good friends, I learned the nature of my disengagement syndrome at cedar campus during SLT, and I thought I had it beaten. I figured out (on a conceptual level) that if we "trust God", it's ok to say goodbye to people and places, because through the holy spirit we are all connected to each other anyway, and if it's in His will he can easily bring us back together. Simple, right? Not so much. Old habits die hard, and during my last few weeks in Bangladesh I found myself disengaging as much as ever. I kept thinking about coming home, going back to school, what was next, and disconnecting from where I was and what I was doing.

So here I am, at the next thing. And it's not that great. In fact it's pretty disappointing. I don't know if I was expecting a red carpet with a fanfare and a 21 gun salute, but being back home is kind of boring and a little depressing. I looked forward to re-engaging with the people I left behind and processing through the things I've learned. But it turns out that half of people I've talked to, after asking "how was it?" and hearing me reply "er...umm..good?"(as though three months of travel could be summarized in such a short answer) don't actually want to know any more than that. The other half don't even ask how it was. There have been a select few people (fortunately my parents are among them) who express genuine interest and curiosity in what I encountered and how it impacted me.

I realize it's finals time, and pretty much everyone that I know is up to their ears in work. I don't mean to complain about people not being willing to sit down and listen to me talk for hours on end. I know what it's like. Goodness knows how many times I've been on the other side of this situation. I don't bear grudges against anyone here.

But I still just feel lonely. Like I am the only person in the world who has been certain places and seen certain things, and that no one can understand me. Kind of like Frankenstein's monster, I guess. Except he knew what he needed to solve his loneliness. I don't have a clue. Even if all my friends suddenly started calling and wanting to hear all about my trip, I doubt it would help that much. This is probably just normal re-entry stuff that will go away with time. I just need to keep moving, develop a routine, and then life will become navigable again.

I am sorry if I sound selfish and needy. Maybe I am just bored, and need to fill my time up with something productive. Right now I just try not to think, or start thinking and make myself depressed. bah. I need school to start...

regarding Spartan basketball

This is a funny moment, and I feel obligated to share. Given the recent political problems, the office has been closed a lot lately. The protesters have agreed to stand down for a few days, so I have come into the office on Saturday to catch up on some work. Supposedly.

MSU is playing at Madison Square Garden right now. I know this because I went on to ESPN.com, and I am reloading the page every thirty seconds to keep track of the score. There are thirty seconds left and we are down by three points. I am visibly anxious.

I wonder what the people in the cubicle next to me think. Hunched over my computer screen like my life depends on what I see there. I almost let out a whoop when we scored back to back threes.

As much as I love being in Bangladesh, I also love my NCAA sports. It's funny when different parts of life come together. I wish I had more time to wax philosophical right now, but the games almost over.

Go Green!

in which Tim reflects on American politics from India...

Yes, I am presently in India. More specifically, I am in a small cyber cafe in the touristy district of Calcutta/Kolkata. I've come for a few days to let my visa renew. It's a huge city, bursting with people. There is a lot of history here too. Lot's of old, colonial looking buildings. Lot's of streets named after Monarchs and other people I've read books about. I might go see the Mother Theresa house this afternoon, after I am done visiting the memorial that was built to Queen Victoria.

But this entry was supposed to be about politics, so here we go. The Democrats pulled it off. At this point they have won the house, and pending the results of one contest, have either won or split the Senate. A lot of people criticized Dean for using a 50 state campaign strategy. They said he should focus the money on winning a few key races. It seems that all the scandals that turned up late in the race caused the 50 state strategy to pay off. It was a landslide.

I am happy about the results of the election, but I am bracing for a painful couple of years to come. It seems to me that the Democrats are like a sports team that has managed to stumble their way into the play offs. Yes, they have made it this far, but the real work is still to come. Winning elections is one thing, but learning how to govern is quite another. I sincerely hope that Pelosi and co. have what it takes to compromise, negotiate, and come up with a plan to make something out of this victory they've won.

And I wonder who will run in '08...my prediction is that within the next month we will have announcements from Clinton, Edwards, Daschle, McCain, and maybe Rudy. Should be fun.

in which Tim announces that he is still alive and goes to the mall

I am still alive. I appreciate the bevy of concerned sounding emails that I received after my last posting. The political situation has simmered down for now, and I am quite safe and sound. No worries.

Today a friend called me up and asked if I wanted to go to the mall with him. Having little else to do, I agreed to go along, not knowing anything about what this "mall" would be like. We met up, found a cab, haggled with him about price for a while, left because he wanted too much, and then repeated the process three or four times until we found a reasonable price. Our cab then began the journey through the usual blend of other cabs, rickshaws, cows, goats, people, bicycles, dust, and all the other things that I've stopped noticing so much because they've become normal.

When we arrived at the mall, my mouth dropped open. I think I was expecting the typical Bangladeshi outdoor shopping area. Loud, colorful, crowded, and lacking extensive organization. This was not what I found. This mall could have fit anywhere in America without attracting much attention. It was big and air conditioned, and every surface was polished to a shine. There was pleasant music playing on an intercom system. There was a nice car parked in the main lobby that shoppers could win in a drawing.

There were stores selling everything you could need for a comfortable suburban life. On the eighth floor was a food court, a video arcade, and a movie theater.

Maybe it's because I've never liked shopping malls much anyway, but the contrast between the inside of that building (shininess and expensive consumer goods), and the street out front (dirt, cows, and beggars) really hit me. I felt a sudden wave of moral guilt for being one of the people on the inside.

I know that it's not morally wrong to go to a nice shopping mall, or have a nice car, or eat a fancy meal. But I wonder how popular American shopping malls would be if out front there were little kids in rags begging for money. Would the contrast be enough to get people to change their behavior, maybe buying less and giving more?

I wish I had more time to reflect on this. But my hour is almost up, and I have to go to India in the morning. Look for updates.

Regarding problems in the political process

Today I feel as if I have woken up in a country other than the Bangladesh I have come to know over the past few months. There is a different feeling. When I opened the newspaper, I was greeted by images of burning cars and violent crowds. Tales of death and destruction. These pages that a few days ago were fountains of optimism, praising the Nobel prize winner for the ways he has led the country forward, are now presenting rivers of uncertainty between the lines of the obituaries.

The situation didn't grow up over night. The two main political parties in Bangladesh have been at each others throats for decades. This year was supposed to be worse, since there is an election coming in January, but no one expected what it's come to. Let me tell you a little bit about the Bangladeshi political process. Here's how it works during an election year: a few months before the vote, all the elected officials resign their posts to begin the campaign season. There is effectively no government. During this time, the affairs of the country are seen to by what's called a “care-taker government”. There is a political process to determine who leads this interim government, but normally it's not that big an issue since it's such a short amount of time that they are in power. Things are different this time around, since the two parties are in a phase of particularly harsh hatred for one another. At the eleventh hour, the man who had been agreed upon to lead the care-taker government “fell ill”, and decided not to take the oath. That was when all hell broke loose.

Each party immediately started yelling about who they thought should be appointed. No one agreed. They told their supporters to take to the streets. One parties mob comes across another parties mob. They start yelling. Someone throws a rock. Another person throws one back. Get some sticks! Light that car on fire! Pretty soon someone else pulls out a gun, and you can guess how things go from there. Now take that scenario and duplicate in almost every major city in a country of 150 million. Here's what it comes out to: on Saturday there were 12 dead, and over 2000 injured. I don't have numbers (or news really) for what's happened today yet.

While there is no violence in my neighborhood, I saw the symptoms of the disease affecting this country as I walked home tonight. At the market place, people who are normally laughing and enjoying each others company are now gathered in tight clusters around radios or televisions, looking suspiciously at those who pass by. Guards, who normally stand in front of their gates offering warm greetings are now behind those gates with the bolt thrown across. They cautiously peer out through the bars.

I have never felt at all uncomfortable walking down that street. Now I can't help but get the chills. It's just so different from how it was two days ago, when complete strangers were giving me hugs and offering me tea along with their hearty “eid mubarak!” greetings. The bright colors of eid clothes have been traded in for the uniform of a swat officer. What can be happening to this world?

p.s. I assure you all, I am perfectly safe. I live in the heart of the diplomatic enclave, and all the demonstrations have taken place miles and miles from here. I am keeping abreast of the notifications sent out by the embassy, so I will be fine. Please pray for the situation, though.

in which Tim apologizes

The more perceptive of you will have noticed that my last entry was posted four times. I just really wanted to make sure you read it. jk.

Sometimes the internet in this part of the world does funny things.

in which Tim's nose swells to the size of a cantalope

Originally written on 10/25 To prevent malaria, I have been taking a drug called mefliquine. There are no negative physical side effects, but the pill has been known to cause depression, hallucinations, paranoia, and vivid dreams. I was TOLD that the vivid dreams are the only common side effect. I have experienced these, and they are often quite amusing. Ask me about them sometime. I would write about them here, but I might get censored for sounding like a crazy person.

I take the pill once a week, and I am supposed to take it with a meal. Yesterday I was supposed to take the pill, but forgot to do it until bed time. I did not have any food handy, and I didn't want to wait until morning (I have it in my head that I take the pill on Tuesday. Why switch to Wednesday?) so I took it with just a glass of water and went to sleep.

I woke up at three am with a funny swollen feeling in my nose. It felt very large. I went to my mirror, and noticed that my nose was indeed very large. It seemed about as big as a small melon. I was unsure what to do. I didn't have any ice. My mom had given me an entire pharmacy of medicine to bring on the trip, but I didn't think there was any swollen nose medicine. After a few minutes of thinking, I decided I was tired, so I went back to sleep after opening and drinking part of a bottle of water.

When I woke up in the morning, I immediately checked my nose. It was normal again! I was very confused about what had happened, but then I stopped to think (this time fully awake). If my nose had indeed been the size of a cantalope, how would I have been able to breathe through it? Also, how would I have even seen past it to see the reflection in the mirror? Clearly it was a dream. But no. The bottle of water that I had opened was still sitting on my bed side table. So it wasn't a dream, but it didn't happen. Wierd.

I guess I will never take those pills without food again...

in which Tim comes to terms with not being able to do everything he wants to do

It's easy, at the beginning of an experience, to make a lot of a grand plans and generally become very excited about all that one will be able to accomplish. This is especially easy for people like me, who tend to bask in the grand vision of things, ocasionally losing sight of the nitty-gritty details that need to be seen to. After achieving this vision and excitement, there very often comes a time (after having dealt with the nitty gritty for a while) when it becomes apparent that the original vision will not be achieved in the exact way it had been imagined it.

Case in point: my current research. We had originally hoped to investigate and write up eight or ten different cases, in depth. After a little more thought and planning, we lowered our goal to six. Now we are discovering the difficulty of trying to do research during Ramazan. Everything closes early. People are hard to get a hold of, and even more hesitant to set up meetings and interviews. Everyone keeps saying "after Eid, after Eid". So we are behind schedule, and the interviews that we have gotten done have not been quite what we had hoped they would be.

I guess it shows the difficulty of this kind of quantitative research, though. People are not like books in the library. You can't go and get them off the shelf whenever you want, page through them, and quote them to your hearts desire. It's a lot more complex, requiring patience and flexibility.


I suppose that's what I'm here for. Not so much to produce incredible research on development programs, but more to learn about how research works in this field. To be exposed to the issues, before I decide which direction to launch my career in. And for that it has been infinitely useful. I am learning so much more than if everything had just gone right.

I just need to work on countering my habit of getting disappointed at not achieving original goals. I think a little bit of disappointment is appropriate. If I didn't let my goals motivate me, what good would it be to set goals in the first place? I just can't allow the dis-satisfaction to cripple me from continuing forward. I must keep thinking ahead, planning, rolling with the punches, and being creative.

Wish me luck.

Wow. I was more self reflective here than I usually am via this medium. Hopefully it's not too boring for you readers.

regarding Nepal

Those of you who are avid checkers of this online publication will have taken note that I have been silent for roughly the past week. I assure you, there is a very good reason for it.

The story begins in the Bangladeshi embassy in Washington DC, where on a lovely summer day a passport was delivered, bearing the name of yours truly. It was supposed to be stamped with a visa authorizing a one time stay of three months. When the passport returned to Tim, all was not as it should have been. The visa said that Tim could visit Bangladesh as many times as he wanted for a year, but could only stay for a month each time.

Tim made several valiant attempts to get the problem mended, but success eluded him like it usually does the Tigers Baseball team (good job, by the way.). The solution was to take a few short trips out of the country during his stay, so as to allow the visa to renew. Not really that bad a punishment.

So about a week ago, Tim found himself on a plane bound for the Kathmandu valley and the Himalayas. It was a lovely trip, full of fresh air, stunning vistas, entertaining ex-pats, and lots of those touristy treats that are not generally available here in Dhaka (hot shower, anyone?).

The highlight of the week was a two day trip up into the mountains. (If you work for MSU and can get fired for knowing about the silly things that students do while abroad, I recommend you skip to the next paragraph). Rachel and I (no more third person in this entry) decided to take a public bus up for the equivalent of a few cents, as opposed to going a more touristy route and paying lots of money for the comfort. You'd think that the bus drivers wouldn't make much of a living charging that little, but you should see the number of people they cram into these things. When it became clear to the conductor that these Americans had little experience being packed in like sardines, he invited us to ride up on the roof! Ever since I was a child, riding around the mountains in Pakistan, I had always thought that it would be tremendous fun to ride up one of those winding mountain roads on the top of a bus. No windows, no seat belts. Just the hair-pin turns, the wind, and the mountain. It was just as glorious as I had hoped it would be.

For those of you who've not been to Nepal (which I assume is most of you?), I highly recommend taking a visit. Kathmandu is a fascinating city, historically, culturally, and religiously. It is very easy to get around (everyone speaks English), and the prices are great.

I will try to get some photos posted soon.

in which Tim drives a rickshaw

For an American in Dhaka, it is simply a fact of life that when you walk down the street (no matter what street it is, or the time of day) you will be the object of an awful lot of attention. The attention-givers generally fall into one of three categories. The first are the beggars, who I have talked a little bit about in the past. The second group is what I like to call "the English speakers", despite their limited vocabulary. These interactions usually begin with them politely inquiring "your country is what?". I always reply truthfully (although I might start having a little fun by saying something like "Korea". What do you think?), and they usually run out of English after one or two more sentences. Fortunately my Bangla is improving, so I can start to make the conversations a little more interesting.

The third main group of people who pay attention on the street are the rickshaw drivers. Some are polite (they leave when you tell them you don't need a ride). Some are rude (they stop in your path to try and get your attention and force you into their cart). And some are as persistent as the desperate telemarketers that tend to call around dinner time.

Last night I had an amusing encounter with one such driver. I was walking home from a friends place quite late at night. I had about eight blocks to go, and fancied the walk. Toward the beginning of the route, I picked up a persistent rickshaw driver, who just kind of cruised along next to me, chatting with me for six blocks. I appreciated his sense of humor and relative politeness, and told him since he was kind of wasting his time with me since I wanted the exercise anyway. I told him that he got plenty of exercise in his line of work, but some of us sit at desks and in cars all day and like to stretch our legs on occasion. He then told me that if I liked, I was more than welcome get some exercise by driving his rickshaw. How could I turn down such an invitation? So on I got, and he climbed into the rear passenger seat. Down the street we went, drawing a few shocked looks and even more laughs from fellow rickshaw drivers and pedestrians who were struck by the image of a Westerner pedaling a rickshaw down the street.

The most shocked look came from the guard of my apartment building (who knows me quite well) when I pulled up to the gate. Sure, it was socially unconventional. But I got some exercise, and it makes a half decent blog entry. At the end of the day, I think that's a pretty good score.

In which Tim goes to the zoo, and discusses his research

If you have known me for a very long time, you know that I do very much enjoy a nice day spent at the zoo. Earlier in my life I had plans to study the zoological sciences in my career. Alas, high school chemistry convinced me that I did not apparently have what it takes to be a real scientist (thankyou, Ms. Pumper), so I've had to settle for dealing with people instead. But I still like going to the zoo.

The National Zoo of Bangladesh is no Sandiego Wild Animal park, but it made for a pleasant afternoon. It was nice to get away from the noise of traffic, the smell of car exhaust, and the crowds of people, and to just stroll along the shaded paths. The state of the zoo is a little depressing. Lots of bars, cement pens, and under-fed animals who don't look terribly happy to be there. I think the zoo is government funded, making the condition of the zoo no surprise. If I were to call Bangladeshi government "inefficient", it would probably be a compliment. I will leave it at that for now, and follow that line of thought later. The animal experience was not completely depressing, since I DID get to take my first Elephant ride ever. That was fun.


I promised a few entries ago that I would share a little bit about the research I am doing. Here it goes...

Acid attacks are a serious problem in South Asia. Bangladesh has more occurences than any other country. What usually happens is that a man gets angry that a woman has refused his marriage proposal and/or sexual advance, so he goes and buys a glass of some seriously strong acid, and goes and pours it on her. It's extremely sick and twisted. BRAC has done quite a bit of work as far as providing help and support to victims, but has done very little to figure out what may need to be done to prevent attacks from happening in the first place. Rachel and I are beginning to project that will examine six or seven specific cases in depth. Our goal is to come up with a decent profile of the perpetrator, with the intent of giving BRAC something that will be useful in designing a prevention program. We are working pretty closely with the a group called The Acid Survivors Foundation. They are helping us get interviews set up and stuff. Work begins full speed this next week. That last link has a lot more interesting info on acid attacks, if you want to educate yourself a little more. These attacks are a terrible thing. Hopefully our work will contribute something useful to the fight against it.

In which Tim purchases a camera, gets very wet, and eats fried chicken

It started off as a fairly normal afternoon trip to the market. The traffic was bad, the rickshaw driver wanted too much money, etc. etc. I was purchasing a new digital camera (I lost mine recently. Oh well, great excuse to get a new one! After all, I can't be in Bangladesh without a camera...). After finding the store, being served by five salesmen at once, and emerging back on to the crowded street, I noticed that this errand had not taken as long as I thought it would. I could still visit the Indian embassy to pick up a visa application before they closed for the weekend. I had probably a mile and a half to travel, and failed to take note of the foreboding dark clouds on the horizon.

A short walk, a rickshaw ride, and another short walk later it had started to sprinkle. I didn't think to take shelter, figuring that I would have plenty of time before it started to rain too hard. I was horribly wrong. Within a matter of minutes, the skies had opened up as though God himself were pouring down his judgment in a manner worthy of the Old Testament. I was soaked to the bone. The paper bag that I was carrying my new camera in had melted (fortunately the camera box was quite a bit tougher. I won't have to buy yet another camera.).

I was just around the corner from the Indian embassy, and it would have been a shame to waste the trip. So in I went, and asked for a visa application. I wonder what they could have thought of this tall, out of breath, wet white person who stumbled through the gate, unable to see through his own glasses. I know that if I were a visa officer I would be hesitant to let someone like that in.

It was still pouring when I emerged from the embassy (I was hesitant to overstay my welcome), and the nearest shelter just happened to be good ol' Kentucky Fried Chicken, and it was about snack time. So in I went, not realizing how wet I was until I noticed an employee following me with a mop, trying to clean up the flood I was wreaking on his shiny marble floor. I tried to apologize, but I just got a big smile and a "no problem sir. Please enjoy, sir." So I sat down, ate my chicken, and waited for the rain to pass.

Pass it did, and I began the journey home, quite damp in my business style clothes. That's when the kids started making fun of me. Usually when little children accost me on the street they are after money. This time, they seemed content to laugh and tug on my sleeves. It wouldn't have bothered me much, but their numbers were growing. When I thought I could count a dozen kids, and I realized that I was beginning to jog to get away, I decided enough was enough. I got in a rickshaw to ride the two blocks home, and overpaid terribly.

I must remember to carry smaller bills with me.

And maybe an umbrella...

in which Tim sets the stage

As I am sure that many of you are frequently checking this blog for updates (and becoming huge fans in the process...), I feel a degree of obligation to share with you a short description of the setting from which my reflections are forwarded to cyber space. I am in a medium sized, rather luxurious (relatively) cyber cafe, on the third floor of an in-door market. I call it an "in-door market", rather than a "shopping mall" because I don't want you to picture me frequenting one of those massive atrocities with shiny floors that feature over priced goods where many Americans choose to do their shopping. This is not like that at all. There ARE many stores, and there IS a roof overhead, but much more crowded, busy, and far better organized. Allow me to explain the organization. Similar merchants tend to group together (stationary stores next to more stationary stores, movie stores next to more movie stores). When I first observed this, I thought it made poor business sense. Isn't that too much competition in too small a place? It didn't fit the model of competition that I am used to seeing. Who ever heard of two grocery stores right next door to each other? Upon further thought, I realized that it works very well for the customer. If the first shop I go to doesn't have exactly what I need, I only need to go next door. Not across the building. If the keeper of one shop is busy, I can just go next door and not have to wait. It's remarkably convenient! I still don't know how well the whole competition thing works, but they seem happy in their business, and Asian economies are the fastest growing ones in the world, so who am I to judge?

This cyber cafe is called "Adda Internet Cafe". They have comfortable chairs, reasonably fast connection, and they play loud Bengali music. The guys who work here have gotten to know me well, as nearly every time I come in I have some strange request that they don't hear very often (plug my laptop in? attach my camera to the computer? connect my vonage box?). Props for customer service. But I think they must like me, since they let me stay until a few minutes after closing to finish whatever blog I happen to be writing, or IM convo etc. Speaking of which, that time is soon, so I should probably wrap this up.

After I log off, I will leave this air conditioned haven to be greeted by the sticky aroma of the city street. I will dodge rickshaws and mini cabs on the two block walk back to my apartment, and maybe give a piece of candy to a beggar kid (I think that's better than giving them money. You never know who may be extorting it out of them. At least they can eat the candy.). Tomorrow is another day. Soon I will write about the research I am beginning to do. It's gonna be exciting. Stay tuned!

In which Tim learns the difference between green beans, and green chilis

Take a good look at that picture. Those two pieces of vegetable look pretty darn similar, don't they? I agree. The problem is that one is a green bean, and one is a particularly explosive little breed of chili pepper. Those of you who know me well know that I do not usually shy away from strong flavor. In fact, I usually enjoy it. But eating this thing is like allowing a small nuke to be detonated on top of your tongue. Not pleasant. So next time you happen to be eating green beans in Bangladesh, be careful. You might get more than you bargained for.

So we got back from the field late last night. After seeing the elementary schools that I talked about in my last post, we toured some health clinics, village community groups, regional offices, a silk harvesting plant, and a very cool recycled paper mill. But after three days of being the 'honored guest' everywhere we went, both Rachel and I felt a strong desire for a little bit of anonymity. I guess we'll have to get used to 'sticking out' for a couple months. This pic is a good example of that (can you find me?)...
While we were in that village, we figured out that the little kids (and the adults, I guess) really get a kick out of seeing their picture on the screen of a digital camera. So for about twenty minutes, we were up to our elbows in crowding, staring, laughing, chattering Bangladeshi villagers. It was a lot of fun. I will figure out a more efficient way to post more pics, so that you can share my joy...

So yeah. I am looking forward to this week, since my internship will sort of be starting in earnest. I will be able to get into a routine, and start to get my life a little more structured and a little less hectic. I appreciate the prayer and the emails.

Regarding Boredom, School Children, and being an Ambassador

Written on 9/12/06

So after our jaunt to the market, we settled into a nice little routine of sleeping off our jet lag and waiting for the long weekend to be over so that we could start our internships at {BRAC}. We have enjoyed eating delicious Bangladeshi meals featuring lots of rice, dal (lentils), rhooti (round, flat bread), chicken, fish, vegetables, and ridiculously hot little peppers that enjoy masquerading as green beans (I will not make that mistake twice!). We were also delighted to discover that our apartment has come with 80 channels of satellite tv. This was delightful not so much because we are slaves to the television, but rather due to the fact that at least 60 of these channels feature some form of singing and/or dancing Bengali or Indian people. Great fun. Especially since we had a few days with absolutely nothing to do, and no one to really show us the city yet.

I will not bore you with a description of our boredom, as I am sure it would be quite boring. But Monday morning, we found ourselves being driven to BRAC headquarters. We met with our intern supervisor, and watched some videos about the history of what BRAC has been doing, etc. Then we were sent to a field station to learn first-hand about BRAC's various programs in micro finance, primary education, women's advocacy, health work, social development, etc. etc.

The TARC (Training And Research Center) that we were sent to is about two hours by road outside of Dhaka. It is one of 16 facilities owned by BRAC, and used to train and support their myriads of rural field staff (teachers, health workers, librarians, micro finance managers, etc. BRAC has a national staff of about 60,000 people, mostly field workers). The TARC sort of reminds me of a South Asian version of Cedar Campus, or other similar training/retreat centers. Lots of people from lots of places are coming and going all the time, but the full time staff go out of their way to make it a peaceful and relaxing place where you can accomplish what you need to, and get some relaxation at the same time. The rooms are comfortable, the food is good, and the gardens are beautiful.

When we arrived in our private car, we found our luggage being carried to our rooms, and a pleasant afternoon tea being prepared for us. We have been getting such royal treatment that I am starting to think that maybe BRAC thinks that we are wealthy potential donors, as opposed to penniless interns! I am definitely not complaining, though.

Today we were touring primary schools run by BRAC in the villages in the vicinity of this

training center. We visited about four single room school houses, and one multi-room school. The day was both entertaining and enlightening. Entertaining, because everywhere we went we were entertained. Kids sang songs, performed dances, recited poems, and were generally very cute (see photos). The enlightenment came in seeing how much can be done with so little. At one school, there was an entire group of parents waiting to visit with us. By way of a translator we were able to hear from them how much of a difference the school has made in their village, and about the new hopes that they have for their children. Worlds are being opened up for their kids that they themselves could never have imagined entering. All this is happening with little more than a medium sized shack, a few tattered books, and a teacher with the training and support to do her job. These kids do not have television, computers, play-station, pokemon or pop-tarts. Despite this (or maybe BECAUSE of this), they sit more attentively in class and seem to have a genuine enthusiasm in the fact that they are being given a shot at something good. I think I could learn a lot from these kids.

The most lively part of the day came when we were visiting an after school type club for girls between age ten and nineteen. After they performed their music, etc. they started asking us questions about the good ol' USA. There were the fairly easy questions like “what kind of food do you eat?”, the slightly more surprising and difficult ones like “what kind of clothes do people in America wear?”, and then the utterly foreign ones like “what is the standard dowry rate in America?” or “who arranges the marriages?”. It was a lot of fun to answer the questions, but really stretching when it hit me that these girls really had no point of reference when it comes to America. Obviously they have never been there, but it was interesting to be reminded that even in this day and age of mass media, blogs and globalization, there are many parts of the world that have yet to be touched by most of it. So in conclusion, I hope that my communication of American culture was representative. I did not realize how quick or easy it is to slip into being an ambassador of ones entire culture and country.

Regarding “Banani”, bicycle rickshaws, and “bishtea borre”

Written on 9/9/06

My last entry ended in confusion, as we were a little bit unsure of where we were or what we were doing. I went to sleep shortly after typing it, and was suddenly awakened a short while later, finding a smiling, bespectacled man standing in my bed room. He introduced himself as Mr. Rahman, the head of the internship program here at BRAC (with whom I had already had frequent correspondence). He said that he had just wanted to stop by and see how we were settling in. Truthfully, I was extremely happy to meet the first person (so far on this trip) with whom I could communicate in complete sentences! He told me that this apartment would be home to Rachel and I for the next three months, so we should get comfortable. He answered some more logistical questions, and then told me that on Monday we would be headed out to the field for a few days to become familiar with BRAC's work from the ground up. I'm really looking forward to this “field trip”.

After being awake for a few hours, I went back to bed. With the help of some drugs (thanks, mom), I slept like a baby for fourteen hours. In the morning, Rachel and I decided that it would be a good idea to poke around the neighborhood and see if we couldn't get some shopping done (I needed to buy a SIM card for my phone, as well as some other odds and ends). After walking around the block a few times and turning down the many rickshaw drivers that seemed desperate for our business, we found a small market place featuring a vendor who seemed to deal in cell phone paraphernalia. (An interesting note about Bangladeshi retail: every shop, no matter how small, seems to have about twenty people hanging out in it. I am working on learning how to figure out which of them actually works there. Although, all of them seem to be able to answer questions, so maybe I don't even need to know?). Anyway, I asked the crowd at the cell phone stand about SIM cards, and they all shook their heads and said “Banani, Banani” and pointed down the street.

We guessed (and hoped) that “Banani” was a shop or something similar. We decided to take the risk, so we hailed a bicycle rickshaw, and told the driver that we wanted to go to “Banani”. Luckily we guessed right, and Banani did end up being a market. What would the poor driver have thought if it turned out that “Banani” meant “not on Friday” or “we are all out”? A note on bicycle rickshaws: they look spacious and balanced enough to accommodate more than one person. This appearance is slightly deceptive. We decided half way through the ride that the limit was probably one and a half Americans to a rickshaw, rather than two. We were quite squished. The poor driver was probably afraid we would break the source of his livelihood. I hope I paid him enough. Upon arrival at Banani we discovered that it was difficult to find a store open on Friday (the day of religious observance in much of the Muslim world) that carried SIM cards, so we went into a cyber cafe instead.

After an hour of checking email for the staggering rate of about sixty five cents American, we left to walk home, only to discover that a monsoon rain-storm had descended on our fair city. It was almost the time that had been set by our cook for lunch (and we were hungry), so we decided to brave the torrential down pour for the four blocks it took to get home. When Shatira (our cook) opened the door for the two soaked Americans, she exclaimed “bishtea, bishtea!” and ran for towels. This provided the opportunity for her to teach us our first complete phrase in Bangla. “Akashte bishtea borre”. We think it means “the rain falls from the sky”. Now we can talk about the weather in Bangla! Only when it's raining, though...

One step at a time.

Regarding Air and Asian Airports

Written on 9/7/06

When I am on a long trip, I tend to really live for that moment when you finally step out of the car or plane and take your first breath of the atmosphere in this new place. It's usually much more dramatic when traveling by air, since the pressurized cabin keeps one completely oblivious to changes in temperature and humidity. But you can tell a lot about a place based on what that initial breath tastes like.

My first breath of Bangladesh was not disappointing. The humidity hit me like warm, wet towel straight to the face. The air is so full of moisture that my clothes felt damp after but a moment. It's that hot, thick heaviness that one can only associate with saunas and countries that have just been through the monsoon.

The air brought with it not only the heat and humidity, but the medley of smells that can only be created by a metropolis in the developing world. It's a blend of car fumes, food cooking, garbage rotting, buildings going up or coming down, domestic animals, and the sweat and blood of a seething mass of humanity. You would have to smell it to really appreciate it, but once it hits your nose you never forget it.

When I finished sniffing the air, Rachel and I proceeded through the airport without much incident. There was a long line at immigration, and we spent the time getting to know one of the guys who was in line with us. He is from Dhaka, and has been in Toronto for four years getting is undergrad degree. This is his first visit home in all that time. He was giving us some tips about getting around the country, where to visit, etc. and he became the third person thus far to tell us that Bangladesh happens to have the longest beach in the world, and we really should visit it. It seems that this beach is really a point of national pride.

Anyway, after immigrating (successfully, so far...) and finding our bags, we were ready to walk through those big doors that would welcome us into the actual country. This is where the developing world developed into something beyond an abstract idea. Outside the airport door, there is a pavilioned pick-up area surrounded by an iron fence. Inside the fence was the expected zoo of coolies and drivers trying to be of assistance, as well as soldiers with large guns. Outside the fence, though, all I remember is massive wall of people. Men, women, old, young, all packed like sardines, most likely meeting people or looking for some sort of work. It seemed like there were thousands of them crammed around that fence, watching through the bars. Many looked to be quite poor.

We in the west often talk about the exploding populations in Asian countries, and the numbers seem to make some kind of sense to our imagination. The reality of a population 25% of America's packed into a country probably not a lot bigger than Michigan in size is much more intense than a book (or a blog, I suppose) can communicate.

Anyway, we found the driver who was assigned to pick us up, and after getting into the car we found that despite his remarkable ability to safely bear us through heavy traffic at high speed, his English left something to be desired. We could not figure out where he was taking us (our instructions had been to meet a driver at the airport, nothing more). A little later, we realized that the driver wasn't exactly sure where he was taking us either. He had to stop and ask directions three times! We were not comforted.

Yet soon enough we ended up at a pleasant and air-conditioned apartment that seems to be a BRAC guest house. We are being seen to by lady named Shatira who cooks delicious food and is teaching us various random phrases in Bangla. She is not a scholar of English either.

So here we are, at an apartment in Dhaka, waiting for whatever is next. We do not know where we are supposed to go or what we are supposed to do next, but we have good food, beds, and air-conditioning. It could definitely be worse.

regarding timezones and tater-skins

Hello from London! Well, as close to London as one considers Heathrow airport to be...

My body is very angry at me right now. My body thinks it is 6:30 AM (Wisconsin time), the clock reads 12:30 PM (London time), but I am pretending it is 5:30 PM (Bangladesh time). This whole International travel thing can become extremely confusing if you let it. If it really is 6:30 AM, then I have just managed to successfully stay awake all night long. It helped that I had several moderately entertaining films, as well as my grandmother's book to keep me occupied. I was also helped along by frequent helpings of delicious English tea. British Airways is definitely the way to go.

Upon arriving in England I decided to have a snack. I purchased some delicious tater-skins in a posh little cafe, not realizing that I was miscalculating the exchange rate. Let's just say they didn't taste quite as good after I realized how much I had REALLY paid for them. And there was something not quite right with the sour cream...

On a more serious\reflective note, I am always blown away by the huge amount of commercial activity that takes place in western airports. The duty-free stores here in Heathrow take up a ridiculous amount of space. Looking at the $70 shirts and the $40 neckties I was struck by just how much money really is floating around in the pockets of westerners. It presents a pretty drastic contrast to what I will be seeing in another twelve and a half hours.

Now I think I will do some reading to keep myself awake for a couple more hours. I will try to sleep through most of this next flight.

Let the record show that I have n o i d e a what will happen to me when I land in Dhaka. All I know is that I am looking for a driver holding a sign. Should be interesting...stay tuned for updates. Thanks for the prayers!

regarding relaxation and stuffed chicken

I am sitting at home, hearing thunder rumble in the distance, and smelling the scent of vegetation soaked by 24 hours of rain. My dog is barking at another dog across the street. I am waiting for my parents to be ready to start a movie. It's good to be home, not thinking about much for a couple of weeks. Summer didn't leave a lot of time for rest, between classes, jobs, more jobs, etc. etc. If I were in EL at this exact moment, I would probably be knocking on doors trying to recruit frosh to come to IV.
No offense to those of you who are doing that right now, but I am very much enjoying not having to think and worry about it. You will do a wonderful job, and I am with you in prayer.

I cooked a delicious dinner tonight (no humility here). Thinking up extravagantly creative and original recipes is one of the ways I enjoy relaxing. Tonight it was chicken breasts, stuffed with ricotta, parmesan and mozarella. I covered them with tomatoe sauce and cheese, baked them, and served them with pasta and sauteed zucchini. I would have taken a photo to post, but most of the food was eaten before I thought to.


Anyway, that's the charm of my domestic life these days.

"it's hot" or "a really boring post" or "Tim is killing time before dinner"

Really hot. It hasn't gone below 90 in East Lansing now for three days. It's nice to have sunshine, and I enjoy heat, provided I have a way of escaping it. Too bad that living in a dorm room and working in a bakery do not provide anything in the form of airconditioning or swimming pools.

I had trouble sleeping last night. I'm not sure if it was the heat, or my itchy brain that kept me awake. Probably a pleasant combination of the two. I put movies on to help me sleep. I got through all of "The Matrix: Reloaded" and part of "Napoleon Dynamite" before the sand man won out.

This posting is really boring. I think I will change the title. No, wait. I will add a secondary title.

I did find a really crazy/cool website last night. It is here. Apparently this guy just follows the Newsboys around the world, and records his exploits on the internet. Kinda funny and surreal. I am glad that other people do these things, so that I can enjoy them vicariously, as opposed to wasting time doing it myself.

Speaking of travel, I am considering joining the Peace Corps when I graduate in a year. I would like to work at their project in Jordan. It would give me good overseas experience, and hopefully increase my odds of getting into a hot grad program. It's strange to be thinking about life more than a semester in advance. I hope I don't have one of these "quarter life crises" that you hear people talking about. I am having too much fun living on the edge to go into a crisis. In a month, I will be in Bangladesh. In a year, I could be in Jordan. After that, who knows?

I must think of a time to go on my grand adventure journey. Here is a map of how I would like to go. (I start in Pakistan, and end in Europe...)
Interested in coming along? Let me know.

It's been a while since I posted, and I am not sure why I am posting now. I have a paper due in about an hour, and I think it is still missing one or two key elements. The class frustrates me, so maybe I am posting out of a desire to protest. Down With Dumb Classes! I don't mean 'dumb' as in 'unintelligent'. More like kind of pointless and convoluted. I feel like the whole relativism thing has the potential to turn most conversations in the social sciences into wildly spinning loops. Like yesterday. We were talking about news coverage of the Romanian revolution in 89/90. People kept making references to "what really happened". So this one kid pipes up and says "I feel that the discussion of truth in this situation is irrelevant. We can never know what really happened in the Romanian revolution, because we are all stuck inside our perspectives." I thought it was a cop out. As social scientists, our job should be to get around the lenses. We should be trained to work as hard as we possibly can to understand the way that our perspective is coloring our assessment of a situation, and then do our best to over come it. I was hoping that others would agree with me, but I was sorely disappointed.

So much for social science.

in between...

Thirty six minutes until class starts, so I may as well share some thoughts with the world. Today I am finding myself wondering why we (students) push our bodies to such extreme limits for the sake of learning. It strikes me as counter intuitive, and more than a little ironic.

Here's the story that brings me to thinking about such things: This weekend, I was at a conference out of town, learning how to minister cross culturally. It was excellent, but the busy days of processing combined with the late nights of talking with friends added up to a less than refreshing weekend. This was supplemented by the fact that on Thursday night I was forced to play police officer in a raid on a beer pong party on my floor. I will write a longer entry on this occurence later. It is a good enough story to deserve it's own posting. The point, though, is that Thursday night provided me with only three hours of sleep, headed into a busy weekend. I returned home Sunday afternoon needing to complete both a scholarship essay, and a draft of a paper for a class that is at it's best radically confusing, and at it's worst utterly non-sensical. So I stayed up until roughly 4 AM finishing what I could of those. I was helped along by some really good coffee from my Christmas stocking (thanks, mom), the music of Bob Dylan and Leonard Nimoy (not together, separately. And yes, Nimoy DID record quite a bit of low quality music. Live long and prosper, Spock, but definitely not on top of the music charts.), and one or two breaks to read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, to keep the stress low.

So when I finally went to bed, I realized that it would be a necessity to sleep through my first few classes. This is because I have a mid-term tomorrow morning, and will need to stay up late studying. As such, it was necessary to stock up on sleep. The conclusion of this long, slightly boring diatribe is that I can't wait to be a grown up who is allowed to leave his work at the office, and enjoy a semi-normal sleep schedule. Oh what dreams I have.

Speaking of dreams, the word came through today that BRAC definitely wants me to intern in Bangladesh. So it looks like I am going. It's exciting. I'll get to spend a semester soaking in the things I've only read about for so long. I am glad I am going to the sub-continent. I guess it's as close to home as most places I have lived. It will still be new, but I think there will definitely be some sense of familiarity. That being said, I am really looking forward to the adventure.

Also, I am thinking about making a movie after I graduate, and before I begin real life. Stay tuned for more information on this.

Basketball lost to Minnesota on the road on Saturday. 15 points. Not pretty, but the gophers played hard and deserved it. The real test is going to be Wednesday at Iowa. If we come into it with a game plan, we will be able to smoke them. Anything can happen in this league, though. Gotta love the big ten.

Me. I am experimenting with this photo publishing thing. Ugh, now it's time for bed.

beginnings

This is not my first blog. A few years ago I made an attempt at keeping one up regularly. For my true fans, you can find it here.

So why the change of venue, you ask? I feel the need for a change. I want to do this more regularly. It could be fun.

So what is new in my campus jungle? Not a whole lot. It is February, and the ground is finally covered with snow. So much for these brutal winters that Michiganders like to boast about. This is the second mildly significant snow fall we have experienced this winter. That sure sounds to me like Global Warming. For more info and commentary on that, check out my dad's blog.

Enough about the weather.

I watched part of a documentary about Ronald Reagan tonight. My neigbor, Jairus, is enamored of the late President, and is the owner of 4.5 hour long documentary that contains everything you could ever want to know about the good ol' gipper. Jairus has been wanting to watch the documentary with me for quite some time, and we chose what would have been Reagan's 95th birthday to begin the viewing.

Did you know that when Reagan was an actor, he was an FBI informant regarding communism in Hollywood? I'm not sure I feel good about that. The work of McCarthy in American history is no point of pride for me. Lots of lives were destroyed. Some might say it was worth it. It kept that big red dog from digging in our backyard. I suppose fear is a powerful motivator.

Time to retire. I must go learn about global economics at eight oclock in the morning.

One final note: The ESPN bracketologist currently has us at a no. 2 seed in the Atlanta bracket. Duke is the no. 1 seed there. Our chances of capturing the big ten title are also high, as long as we can win our remaining home games, and two of the three remaining road games. I have a good feeling. So all is well in the basketball world.