Meeting Shilpi in Brahmanbaria (October 20, 2008)

As was previously mentioned, one of my objectives in traveling to Bangladesh was to meet my uncle Mike's sponsor daughter, Shilpi. He is currently giving her financial support so that she can get a good high school education at a boarding school in Brahmanbaria (Chittagong Division), a small district in east-central Bangladesh. Mizan and I take a day trip from Dhaka to visit her at the school. Her father, a village doctor, has also come for the day from his village.

We meet with the principal, who is effusively enthusiastic about the effectiveness of his institution. He takes me on a tour of the classroom facilities and dormitories. Each time he sees a student, he poses questions to them in English, "How do you like it here? What is your favorite part of the education?" I feel bad for the students, who are obviously afraid of him and nervous about speaking English. Often, they reply that their favorite of the school's values is "discipline." Then, he makes them ask questions of me: "What is your name? Where are you from? How old are you?" they ask, quietly and with trepidation.

Shilpi is just as shy, if not more than the other students. She is a special case at the school, as they made an exception for her and allowed her to enter later, in class 9, rather than starting with the rest of the students in middle school. She seems to be adjusting well and making friends, though it must be difficult for her to come from her small village and fit in here. She is so quiet and barely articulates a conversation with me about my family and Mike. Yet, I can tell that if she weren't so shy, she would show me that she has learned a sufficient amount of English in a very short time. Despite our limited conversation, I can tell from her smile, bright eyes and soft presence that Shilpi is a sweet, sweet child. I am so happy to have met her.

After the school tour, the principal makes me speak to a group of about 20 teachers at the school. Mike has told him that I taught English in Hong Kong (in actuality I was only an English tutor), so he is under the incorrect impression that I am a teacher. The teachers each introduce themselves and their subject, standing when they speak to me. I insist that they do not need to stand. Then the principal asks me to give a lecture on my teaching philosophy. I make something up about the importance of creating opportunities for critical thinking and questioning. In language instruction, I note the importance of conversation practice as well as written practice for students who may be too shy. I cannot think of anything else to say. Then the principal asks me to sing a song for the teachers, as I have a background in music (instrumental music, however). Mizan has been asking me to sing for him all along, and I have refused. The children at the orphanage and Shobnam's sister have also asked me to sing. This is Bangladeshi culture. For some reason, I cannot remember the words to any songs beyond maybe the introductory verse. I squeak out the beginning of Cat Steven's "The Wind." Then, the principal introduces a young female student who sings two songs beautifully. The audience is moved, and I am told the songs are about the freedom fighters who fought in the liberation war.

After this ordeal and a lunch of bhat (rice) and subji (vegetables), Mizan and I take Shilpi and her father to a nearby Hindu temple, as they are Hindu. Then it is time to part. Shilpi's father tells me, "You are family. Mike is my brother and you are my daughter."

Mizan and I walk to the nearby lake and search out a canoe to rent. He bargains with some local boys and we relax on the water for some time before catching a bus back to hectic Dhaka.