to Bangladesh and Back

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2006-10-15T14:49:00.000-05:00

I have tried to re-format the blog a million times. I'm not trying anymore. The pics are clear, all of the stories are not, so is you are really into the stories, please view them at
http://blog.myspace.com/yolimaya
try hitting refresh and see if that does anything, especially if you tried to view the blog before.
it's seems one or the other here. alas, i'm new at the blog thing.......

four winds
yoli

Enjoy this visual and literary fun!

2006-09-29T10:14:00.000-05:00

dolly and rumal at lal bagh fort

29 September 2006

Namaste and Assalam Alaikum Friends! This is the entirity of my summer blog reposted photos and stories too. The few photos above, are somehow appropriate as an introduction to this trip and modern Bangladesh. We were visiting the Lal Bagh historic monument in the center of Old Dhaka, there to learn about history and the Mughals who ruled in the past. All seriousness was put aside as we gawked and snapped photos of the filming of the next 'Dollywood' hit (the nickname for Bangladesh's cinema industry) on the lawn of the Fort. There was the number on hero, Rumal, and his infmaous belle, Dolly. They are the most popular cheap-cinema film actors right now in Bangladesh. The experience was truly something.
These movies, were not talking high cinema here. They are tawdry song and dance numbers, very cheap, very simple, made for the low classes and rickshaw drivers who frequent the theatres. The movies very often times cut to intermittent porn and blue films. I never went to try it out.....
Enjoy the rest of the fun!
Four Winds,
Yoli aka Kurukulla aka France

In Need Of A Pirate Ship

2006-09-29T09:12:00.000-05:00

before, during and after, and ancient lost wax method of metal working. dhamrai village, bangaldesh

the trees have taken over the 19th century building of bangladesh former capital, sonargoan

village beauty of paharpur and mahastan

amazing siva lingham and hevajra images at paharpur buddhist monastry ruins. 8th century

the old and new at the gate of the city, dhaka

ancient fountain at the lal bagh fort, 16th cen

pagla (the mad), peep the shirt

above: lal bagh fort
below: me, and lassi satifaction after a visit to the fort

gwen and ann marie---so cute!! emily looking artistic, below

amazing ancient wrathful red tara, 5th cen

Wednesday, September 06, 2006
In need of a pirate ship

Unless i process more of my amazing trip to Bangladesh and India over the summer this is my conclusiory note on blogging, travelling and Bangladesh. First of all, I really like blogging for the fact that the story is down on something written, ready for people to read at their own convenience. I come from a tradition of story-tellers and nowadays no one has time for stories. Here we are, storytellers, waiting on the sideline for people to get off their phones and blackberries in order for us to share the wisdom of experience and life. Well, thanks to blogging all the stories are there, and I have done my job, now it's up to you to read it!

Travelling is still my favorite thing to do. In all astrologies I have majority of Martian (Mars) character, and that means that every 48 hours, I am changing and have to change. A mood will last with me for 2 days. I need to go somewhere every six months, and I'm not just talking a weekend to Detroit, but somewhere fun and adventurous. BUT, air travel is on the way out I say. WAY too stressful. I need a priate ship, because I don't want just any old boat, and I need to sail the seas to get to where I'm going. Flight travel is just too stressful now, and I had a real tough time at my connection in London, missing my flight, for once not my fault, and having to beg on hands and knees to get a flight home. There was no money to stay in London. The best thing is to have no carry-on because it will be hand searched.
I have returned to the states in robes, and that was another thing flagged in the airport. I had a female police officer with me in the entire Dhaka, Bangladesh airport time, a five-time search in London, and some very suspicous looks on the American Airlines flight to Chicago. I need a pirate ship.
I am so very thankful for the Bangladesh trip. In this experience I have gotten over my fear of the government and the Man, and have realized that Uncle Sam can help me in my mission too. There is funding and work out there for someone like me who is working in the field of Religion/Philosophy and the study of Interreligious Dialogue and Ethics. I am developing an expertise that is of help and application in the world and our government right now, and is badly needed.

Bengali culture was not something new for me, like the majority of my fellow program participants, so my time was very easygoing and relaxed. I'm sure I gained five pounds or so stuffing myself with kaccha biryani and fish, and everything fried, which is the style there. I have made so many wonderful friends, and hopefully have fostered relationships that will last into the long future. It is soooooooooooooo important for we Americans to get the real story on Islam, Islamic culture, and 'Muslim countries". Hopefully, anyone who had read this blog now understands that Bangaldesh is a democratic country with a Muslim majority. That is very different from a country run by Muslim law like Saudi Arabia. There is nothing within Islam that does not support democracy, in fact the two are very close to one another.

So I give thanks for all that I have been provided with and for the many, many blessings along the way. I think I am hooked on blogging, as I have discovered now that more people are reading that just I know. So please, interact and let's learn together!
Four Winds,
Kurukulla aka Yoli aka France

Where Did Yoli Go?

2006-09-29T08:57:00.000-05:00

aghora chatturdashi puja, august 2006, gangtok, sikkim

the view of deoarli and chorten gonpa, gangtok, sikkim

kanchenjunga peeking through the mountain, the view from our rooftop

Sunday, August 20, 2006
Where did Yoli go?

Hey all! Ten days without email. I had like 1000 messages in my inbox. I just wanted to update the adventures.....I've made it to Sikkim, India, for a few days of battery recharging with my Guruji. Getting here was quite the adventure!

I decided to book a flight, and stop mucking around since my time here in India was so short and so precious. Getting a plane ticket in Dhaka was an adventure in itself, but after a little persistence and stern convincing that the travel agend COULD take my credit card, the next day I was heading for Kolkata, then to the top of West Bengal, then a jeep to Sikkim. When I reached the house to pack, all the student-friends were in a flutter. The news of London and the attempted bombings was plastered on the TV, and they were packing to fly back the the states, via london of course, the following day. Boy was I happy to be going to India.

We had our going-away party in Dhaka the night before I left, so I didn't see much point in sleeping. I made the mistake of sleeping for almost one hour, I should have just kept drinking or something. I definetly spent more time waiting in airports then flying. It was just forty minutes Dhaka-Kolkata, and one hour Kolkata-Bagdogra.

When I reached Silliguri, where I would take a jeep to Sikkim, it was about 100 degrees farenheight (maybe near 39 celcius), and the road was closed to Sikkim because of landslide. Landslide is something quite common here inthe rainy season. The mountains here are full of slate rock and care very young. They continue to move.

Seven hours later, I reached. I was just so excited that it didn't really matter. I will be here for another week, and then, Inshallah (God Willing), I will head back to Chi-town. Not too much time, but more soon--->

Journey Into Bangladesh

2006-09-29T08:34:00.000-05:00

me and gwen tony and sumira
the whole group on a trip to the metal-working village of dhamrai

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

our whole group

Journey Into Bangladesh

This is an article that I was asked to write about our trip, and gather a few quotes from other students in its content. If you've read my blog entries, and then read this article, this is me writing for a Bangladesh newspaper. I don't think the information is different, but not so much critical, of course......

Journey Into Bangladesh

By France Yoli Joseph

Eight weeks ago now, fifteen American university students embarked on a trailblazing journey to Dhaka for the Summer Bangla Institute. The first of its kind, this intensive language study program was enabled at the last minute by AIBS (American Institute of Bangladesh Studies), The US State Department, and IUB (Independent University Bangladesh), and is part of a new wave of intensive language study programs that expose students to language and culture in a concentrated format.

Methods of education are changing in the world, and this change is being co-created by both teachers and students. Our groups age range was eighteen to thirty-three years old, and this age range is reflective of the budding generation of leaders, business people, scholars, academicians, and trailblazers on the rise. Education is changing because the world is changing. The internet alone has opened up cultural mysteries, indigenous knowledge, and the level of awareness of the myriad of Peoples who inhabit this one earth.

As a result of the rapid pace of change and development, the time has come that people of different fields need to know about other languages and cultures, in order to survive and grow in our bustling world. This is our purpose in coming to Bangladesh for the summer. Each student in our group is from a different university, some are completing undergraduate degrees and some graduate and post-graduate degrees. Each students studies are focused in different disciplines. Some include religion, development studies, anthropology, linguistics, South Asian film, and international relations. Some in our group were familiar with Bangladeshi culture and South Asian traditions, and some had never even left America before.

No matter what background, Bangladesh was an enlightening and mind-opening experience for each participant. We were ready from the start for our grueling daily schedule which had us in class from 9 am to 4 pm, from Sunday through Thursday. Day one we jumped right in with Assalamu Alaikum and Amar nam , and didnt look back from there. The program is a new step in Bangla language learning, and we were very excited to be its first set of students. We also understood that we would need to be patient and understanding as we would be out of our known place and comfort zones and on top of that learning a new language.

We soon understood that learning Bangla and learning of the Peoples who speak Bangla needed to go hand in hand. We werent here just to learn in a classroom and out of a book, but rather the streets of Dhaka and the lands of Bangladesh were also our classroom. In that way, we had every resource imaginable at our fingertips, although of course it was rather intimidating at first.

When you are in your own land, you are in a known place. You know how to dress, how to speak, how to eat, even going to the washroom. Like fish out of water, in the first few weeks we faced challenges of daily life. For the female students wearing more conservative clothing and realizing the gender differences between our lands was hard to swallow at times. After a week we all knew that it wasnt 40 taka to go from Baridhara to Gulshan 2, and started to get the hang of riding on the rickshaws and not feeling like youre going to fall out at any minute.

By the end of week two we were already speaking, had completed the alphabet, and were ready to bargain hard in the market. The male students were sporting kurtas and the female students were trying a hand at wearing a sari, and of course the challenge of keeping it on throughout the day. We soon learned the secret of the safety pin. We became more adventurous with food, opening ourselves to the daily feast of Bangladeshi cuisine. Mishti dohi, fish-head daal, kaachi biriyani, begun bharta, lassi, chingri dopiyaza, rui maach, kebab, and rosh gula soon became part of our regular vocabulary.

We took several short trips around Dhaka to the Liberation War Museum, Dhakeshwari Mandir, Lalbagh Fort, Dharmarajikha Buddhist Monastery, Dhaka University and more. We had lectures on the Language Movement, The Liberation War, Mughal architecture, contemporary art, traditional metal work from Dhamrai, Buddhist Stupa design, Islam and Hinduism. By the end of four weeks, half of our time passed, all of us we so surprised at the expectations we had come to Bangladesh with and the reality of the culture, language, and traditions before us now.

"Being someone who has never before been to a third world country, the beauty, joy and kindness I have found here surpassed my expectations" Lendy Krantz

"I had no idea what to expect coming to Bangladesh, but I found exactly what I hoped to: a beautiful country, amazing people, and a place that feels like home"

Ann Marie Edquist

We took two trips outside of Dhaka. Our first trip took us to Bogra. We visited the sites of Mahastangarh, Somapura Vihara, Tangail, and a zaminder bari as well. For the first time, seeing the village life of Bangladesh gave us a completely new perspective of the simplicity and grandeur of life here. The green countryside and warmth of the people made us feel so comfortable and at ease. To learn of the international civilizations that existed in these lands for thousands of years is so incredible to us. Our country is a mere 250 years old.

"I was incredibly touched by the warmth of the people in the villages we visited. Entire families led us into their houses and fed us aam and mishti dohi."

Kira Krown

Our second trip was to Chittagong region. Life in Chittagong was eye-opening, especially our trip to the ship-breaking yards. Perhaps one trip to see that side of life and survival in Bangladesh is enough, but it was a real awakening experience to see a desperate environmental scene like that. Where we come from there is a huge awareness of the need to preserve the environment and dispose of waste properly, yet American ships are among the recycled waste parts found in the yards and surrounding markets. Though the scene was hard to swallow, we as non-Bangladeshis are also participants in this industry.

We also visited Sufi shrines, Vaishnava Ashrama, learned of the tribal populations of Bangladesh at the Ethnological Museum, and visited the incredible site Mainimoti (Devaparbata). In just a few days, we witnessed a wide range of life in Chittagong region, from the extreme of wealth to the extreme of poverty. It makes you look at yourself and start to ask where you sit in the picture.

This is another major aspect of participating in a cultural exchange: to learn about yourself. If our environment, language, fashion, and history make our cultural identity, then the journey of getting out of your known element can only help one to learn and grow into a better, more diverse and adaptable human being. To visit so many different cultural and religious sites in Bangladesh made us realize even more that there is a degree of pluralism here that is not present in all places of the world. Bangladesh may appear as economically poor, but Bangladesh is so rich in culture, heritage and tradition.

"Having the opportunity to experience firsthand such a diverse and deep-rooted culture has expanded my worldview and also the way I view my own cultural identity, not to mention giving a much-needed insight on the Bangla language itself."

Gwen Kirk

"Studying development economics in America, I could only understand Bangladesh as a collection of abstract statistics and a few anecdotes. It has been so exciting for me to see Bangladesh as a living country, and the development projects I have seen here are deeply inspiring and thought-provoking." Caely French

We are going back to our homeland awakened to more of our global reality, and knowing more about ourselves. This diverse group will no doubt apply what we have learned into our multi-disciplines, and have a burning desire to share with our communities and the world at large the reality of the traditions and life of Bangladesh and its Peoples. Eight weeks is of course not enough time, but it was enough to leave a wonderful taste in our mouths, and we cant wait to come again for more.

From Heaven To Hell On A Tour Bus

2006-09-28T10:36:00.002-05:00

the resale stores of the shipbreaking yard materials: wood, toilets, metal, furniture etc

hungry holy turtles at the sufi shrine goaldi mosque, 1600 ad

debaparbata aka mainamati, buddhist ruin site, 5th cen ad remains of the central shrine at debaparbata

Monday, August 07, 2006

From Hell to Heaven on a tour bus

This past weekend we embarked on the second of our field trips for this summer program. Our destination was Chittagong district to the southeast of Dhaka. Chittagong borders Burma and it's jungle clad mountains are home to many different tribal Peoples of this area of the world. The northeast of India, Bangladesh, Burma, and Thailand all have tribal populations who still live in a form of their traditional ways, although their land and resources are always sought after. I was fired up to learn more about these traditons and other topics in Chittagong, Bangladesh's economic base city.

Upon the start of our deluxe bus jouney, i saw the signs of trouble on the horizon. We reached our first destinaton Sonargoan, and the museum was closed that day. My ears perked up, because of the few things I learned living in this region of the world, a major law of the land to know, is that one must recgonize when something is not going your way. When you are trying to do something like mail a letter, or travel or buy something and it not working out for you, it is so important to recgonize it and try again or change the plan. If not, disaster strikes and intense frustration sets in.

After walking around the village of Sonargoan and viewing ruins of zaminder (feudel lords) village holiday houses that were being devoured by trees and an ancient Mughal bridge and mosque constructions we boarded the bus to head out for Chittagong and that's when our residental director informed us that he would not be travelling with us and we were in the hands of our tour guides. Trouble! As subtle as this may sound I saw this as the second sign of trouble.

Tour guides here are about making money and skimming as much off the sides as they can along the way. So we ate lunch at a really awful restaurant with half-cooked day-old rice, which was a result of this sketchy behavior. They have some agreement with this restaurant, and get a little something on the side and skim a little something off the top.

After reaching the hotel, another lovely 3-star spot like our last trip for a village experience, it was time for dinner and another argument ensued over what food we were going to eat. Again these guys were trying to skim something off the top and give us the cheapest food possible, especially since we were missing our Director.

Morale was low and our group was beginning to feel like this trip was a total bust. Day two, from hell to heaven we journeyed. I had a look at our itenerary and had to speak up about it. These tour guides are accustomed to taking out a group of Bengalis who want to be herded around like cattle from site to site. They didn't put together a tour for students and researchers who need more time at a place. Maybe even a whole day or half-day.

I decided that if I was going to make it through this trip with my sanity intact, then I would have to speak up about our goings on. So, as many of you know how I do, I took over and started direting things. I whittled down the schedule and changed the timings of our day. Less sites and more rest.....which would prove to be badly needed.

Our first stop, the pits of hell was what we called it, the great ship-breaking yards of Chittagong. Bangladesh accepts about 80% of the world's ship waste. This means that as huge cargo ships die, they are bought in auction, brought to Chittagong, and dismanteled over the course of 6-8 months, BY HAND!! First of all, if anyone had any sense they would have thought that we students have no business going to an unsafe place like that. I'm not talking terrorism and violence, i'm talking about scrap metal sitting around in piles as far as you can see. The air is black with chemical smoke and oil and tar. As we entered one of the 30 ship-breaking yards in Chittagong, Small black bodies covered in soot and oil popped up from various work areas of the yard to gaze at the 15 foreigners who had arrived. Within minutes we had a crowd of at least one hundred men who worked there around us gazing and of course making comments.

At the edge of the shorse sat, five massive cargo tankers all being dismanteled. They are towed in during the full moon high tide, and then sit as a crew comes in to dismantele the entire ship with hand tools and welders. It was the most amazingly disgusting environmental tragedy that I have even seen in my life. The entire group of us were in shock, both at the site, and at the idea that we came to this hell on earth. If someone brought a meter reading nuclear radiation I can only imagine what it would say. Bangladesh is the cheapest country in the world for ship-breaking and is notorious for accepting environmentally hazardous waste ships.

How does this industy effect the surrounding communities? Environmentally they measure that the pollution goes for about 20-30 kilomenters around the area. There was a pond behind the yard that people were taking bath in and washing dishes. I couldn't believe it. That water was basically toxic waste. Just behind the compound people were growing rice and vegetable....and i think also second heads.

The ships are bought in their entirity. So surrounding the ship-breaking yards are vendors of different ship matter. The beds, toilets, fixtures, life bouys, furnitures, wood, metal, ladders, gas tanks, and you name it all for sale. Apparently newly married couples who are starting household come down here to buy things cheap.

We loaded the bus, still in shock to head past all the ship-stuff vendors and onto the Ethnological Museum. This would be our only chance to learn something about the tribal Peoples of Bangladesh. The tribal Peoples of Bangladesh are not very present in the government, but some do run their communities at the local level. Central government decisions, since the time of the British in this region, have exploited these Peoples and taken away their rights of self-determination.

During the trip to the Ethnological Museum in Chittagong, the way Native Peoples are viewed by the mainstream is clear to see before your eyes. Starting with a painting of the 'four races of the world' that looks like a cartoon, to the introductory words that described the tribals of Bangladesh as simple, ignorant of the modern world, and living today in 'half-baked' communities. Wow!

By this point in time we are not hoping for much to an already torturous day. The museum was built in 1962, when Bangladesh was East Pakistan and under the boot of West Pakistan. The museum is a tribute to the tribal Peoples of Pakistan as much as the tribal Peoples of Bangladesh. I couldn't believe that this place was still standing after the Liberation War of 1971. The displays was from 1962, never changed since, and amazingly outdated. By the time we reached there, because of the funnyness of the tour guides we were allotted 30 minutes until hearded onto the next site.

After a quick lunch at the hotel, we were back on the bus for our afternoon sites to Sufi communities of Chittagong. Definetly cool stuff and very relevant to me, but these tour guides had us down, boot on the neck. Since there was very little organization and information being given, the students had no idea where we were or what we were looking at, and that can be such a frustrating experience. So i stepped up and gave as much an intro as i could. That added another element to the power struggles going on amongst the teachers and tour guides. Oh the fun of personality clash!

The first shrine we visited had a strong energy about it. This Persian saint came over with two turtles, whose generations have populated the pond beside the shrine complex. These turtles we some of the saddest turtles I've seen, looking so unhealthy on their shell, skin and eyes. They were lined up at the side of the pond, to receive the offerening of bannanas and bread on little sticks from visiting pilgrims.

From there we travelled an hour and a half to another Sufi community center. This is a living community, centered around a lineage of Pirs (teacher-masters). The central shrine, an artful white dome shaped lilke flower petals houses the shrine of the passed master. His son is in charge now. As we entered, the call to prayer sounded and all the teachers wanted to go for prayer. As they entered they were a bit shocked as the followers did not face the direction of Mecca, but rather faced the shrine of the Pir Baba. After completing prayers, we went for an audience with the son-in charge.

We were hardly involved in the discussion, as the male tour guides dominated the conversation, and were visibly being rude to our head teacher, a woman. They were cutting her off left and right, even when she was translating the discussion for us. It was like the power struggles on the trip were only getting worse, no matter in the pits of hell of the ship-breaking years, or in the shrine of a reveared Sufi master.

Day three we departed from Chittagong, headed for a Vaishnavite (Hindu) community in the area. Once again, I went into lecture mode, especially since it was so visible to the students that our staff was breaking down now. That helped the students, but angered the staff, and made me feel like when will the hellish trip end? People just need to learn how to make the best of things, you know?

After about 3 and a half hours in the bus we stopped for lunch, where? At the same crappy restaurant as on the way to Chittagong. By this time we students are cracking up about the whole thing and can't wait to get home. The bum part of it, as morale was so low, we still had one more site to visit, Mainimati, also known as Devaparbata, one of the greatest seats of Buddhist learning and practice in Bengal.

I for sure was on the let's-make-the-best-of-it team, and the chance to go to the land of great Masters like Tilopa and Naropa was a real gift. So through the perseverence of hell and this trip, we reached Devaparbata, the heavenly abode of the gods. Another ruins site, the museum housed giant bronze images and many basalt and terracotta images found during excavations. Actually, this site is largely unexplored. The old Bengali art style is so incredibly beautiful and was the origin of other Buddhist asthetics found in trans-Himalaya. Some of the images were very resonant and gracefully humbling. I gave a little lecture here too, to whomever wanted to listen, no hands tied. I couldn't let the opportunity go to share my own excitement at being at this place, and getting, just an hour of course, to soak the vibe in.

Devaparbata pre-dates Vikramshila, Nalanda, and Somapura Vihara (where we visited in Bogra on the last trip). Devaparbata's design is similar to Buddhist study and practice centers found in Swat (like Taxilia), modern day Afghinastan-Pakistan. The desings of later monastic learning center are based on Devaparbata including in Java and Sumantra.

The sun was setting as we were being hustled out by the guards, the work day was over and they wanted to go home. It had rained earlier, and with the golden rays of the sun resting on the exposed brick colums of the site's ruins, I gazed behind me at a huge rainbow, a full bow, extending across the entire sky. Ah, at last a good sign.

Amazing Bangladesh

2006-09-28T10:19:00.000-05:00

the making of sweets, mixing, rolling, and cooking on the wood fire. below, the finished thing

jute, drying by the roadside
original paintings by jemal

a hindu woman of dhamrai village
the boatman of bangladesh

Saturday, July 29, 2006
amazing bangladesh

I just wanted to write a little note on how floored I am about how incredible this land is. I had a few assumptions before I come here, which is something I really try not to do. But, I assumed that Bangladesh was very poor and that I was going to experience intense poverty and that would be extreemly visible.

Another very important thing I have learned here is that this land is newly poor. This, just one hundred years ago was the wealthiest region of South Asia, and a money pot of the British empire. Colonialism of course weakened the power structure here in Bengal, but it was really the events of Indian Independance and the rein of Pakistan over Bangladesh from 1947-the Liberation War of 1971 that sent the people here into a spiral of poverty and helplessness. Prior to this there was not the picture of Bangldesh that all Americans got in the 1980's. This land took care of itself and provided for its population. Necessities were in abuldance. But faced with the colonial challenge to become capitalistic and be dominated while doing it has made this situation of extreme poverty.

How would I describe Bangladesh?

Deep, Lush, Seasoned, Multi-Layered, and Multi-Dimentional.

It is so clean and neat. Very well put-together and cosmopolitan. Resouceful and innovative. Accomodating, Caring, and Curious.

.....yes I will of course admit that this has been a sheltered experience, but what I am expressing and describing is not the obvious waves at the top of the ocean, but the subtle undercurrents below the surface.

Studious Me

2006-09-28T08:28:00.000-05:00

a typical conversation with me.....

Saturday July 29, 2006

studious me

Today was a weekend day here, which are the only two days of the week that the traffic is managable in the city. The past few days I've been going out alone which provides me the chance to only speak in Bangla. I feel that you need to hear and read a language just as much as make sentences and study grammar in order to become proficent and conversant. I had an appointment at ten am across the city to meet with a wonderful woman professor from Dhaka University.

Many weeks ago now, we had the Press Sceretary of the US Consulate come over to the university and speak to us about the political climate and election time shenanagans that go on here in Dhaka. Things like strikes, protests, and social lockdown in the streets. I was listening in, some may call evesdropping, on a conversation between John our speaker and Tony the professor who is the residental director of this program. They were discussing an upcoming regional Interfaith Conference.

Right up my alley! I approached Tony after the talk and asked him if there was some way I could miss class and attend the conference. Well, with some requests and soft insistence, I got a call the morning of from Tony with the address and details. Yep, I crashed the conference and had a great time doing it.

When I entered the room of the conference, a paper was being presented by Dr. David Harrington from Temple University on Interreligous Dialogue. Accompanying him was a respondent and the moderator, Dr Banu, whose house I visited today. Dr. Banu is the provost of the Political Science Department and the head of a girls hostel with 1300 girls ! At the conference, I found Dr. Banu a pleasure to talk with, inciteful, and so very sophisticated. She also served on the Board of the University ( Bangladesh Institute of Islamic Thought) which hosted this conference called, Regional Interfaith Conference for Peace Stability and Development in South Asia. There were representatives from Bangladesh, Burma, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, and Nepal. The male of the species was more in number, by far and Dr. Banu spoke up about the need for more women to participate in the Dialogue too. Too true.

I also shared to comments about the need to inculde more young people in conferences like this one, and perhaps even host a youth conference (18-35). I also asked some questions to the afternoon's speaker about the evolution of the ethical needs of the world. In the case of mixed-culture and mixed-religious marriages the world of religion and ethic is developing into something new, and a new set of needs. The atmosphere at the conference was very open and understanding. It was also very communicative and sharing. I got to meet several professors of Islamic Studies, Religion, Economics, Philosophy and Jounalism.

I was not able to attend the second day of the conference, because I got my lovely sinus infection. Today, I had the appointment with Dr.Banu to visit her at the Dhaka University campus and chit-chat some more. Dhaka University is the largest university in Bangladesh, started in 1921. There are thousands and thousands of students there and the campus in enoumous.

Today I visited just a slice of the pie, visiting the student union, the Arts Division, and one of four girl's hostels. What amazed me most is how the female population of Dhaka Uni had now grown to the number equal to the male population. The boys have 13 hostels and the girls have 4. In the girls rooms I saw today, there were eight girls to a room. Two girls per twin bed! I joked with them that I would have a big problem if I lived there. The beds would fit just one of my size.

Dr.Banu is one of people responsible for all 1300 girls in the hostel behind her house, and is trying to find more accomodation for the female students. I suggested taking at least one of the boys hostels.

Seeing women in positions of power here is not something one may expect, especially clouded by the general assumptions a American may have about the social conditons of a "Muslim" country. Why is muslim in quotes? Because one of the important things that I have understood about Bangladesh is that this is not a "Muslim'" country. This is a democratic country, not one that is run by Islamic fundamentalists. In this post-9/11 world we throw the Muslim label around and further marginalize countries like Bangladesh.

The social ethic here is Muslim, because this land is a Muslim majority. The political ethic is Democratic. Another important point I have observed is that the gender scale is not so lopsided here. Similar to India, woman have a most powerful role in the home and community and just like Dr. Banu there are women in positions of business, power, and leadership yet they retain their feminity visibly.

I discussed today with Dr. Banu, is there anything in Islam that prevents it from correlating with Democratic governance? She says no and we discussed more what is going on in the world with the labeling of Islam as the current enemy. We also discussed the current war in Lebanon. People are protesting in Dhaka about it....as well they should. As well as anyone should.

A Special Adventure

2006-09-27T19:54:00.000-05:00

a typical home in the village of vajrayogini

the pagoda and inaguration plaque built by the chinese embassy of bangaldesh

Friday, July 28, 2006
A Special Adventure

I had a small list of things I wanted to do here in Bangladesh, missions to be completed. At the top of the list was a visit to my Guruji's village Vajrayogini. This is also the village of the birthplace of the great Buddhist Scholar and Master, Atisa Dipankara Srijnan. Atisa Zobo, as he is known to the Tibetans, is the founder of the Kadampa Sect, student of Naropa and teacher of Domtonpa. It was Atisa that took the last updated Vajrayana teachings to Tibet before Buddhism was wiped out in India for good. What survived were the lineages in Tibet, Bhutan and Sikkim. Atisa was also a head teacher at the great Vikramshila, Somapura Vihara and many others.

I found Vajrayogini on a map just before I left the states, and put it out there to the universe at large to make it happen if it will. When I arrived in the airport in Dhaka, I got through immigration very quicky, and then went over to get my luggage. There was my suitcase just sitting right there, it must have come on an earlier flight. I have lots of time to wait for the group to finish getting through immigration and getting luggage. In the mean time, I was chatting with one of fellows who came to pick us up from the airport, Mr. Tipu from the AIBS (American Institute of Bangladesh Studies) which is one of our sponsors.

We started chatting and I came out fast that I wanted to go to the village called Vajrayogini among some other intrests. Lo and Behold! Mr. Tipu was from Vajrayogini! I met him one time at the AIBS office last week and hounded him for research in Lalon Geeti, Buddhist Sahajiyas, Doha traditons, and Sufi mystics. No time to waste! He organized a car for us to head out today and drive about two hours South to our destination.

We had as our guide a jounalist from the region, called Vikrampur. We left early, although it is a weekend day and there is not a lot of traffic. The morning was beautiful with sunny skies, perfect temperature, and a lot of breeze. We headed out the south of the city, and then through an industrial supply region called Narayanjanj. We loaded a big ferry with buses, cars rickshaws and people, to cross a river, and then another half-hour to Vajryogini village.

The village was very green (as to be expected in the rainy season), the ponds were clean and full, and it was jute harvesting time. They cut the jute from the soil, then soak it in the pond. Then they dry it and pull off the fibers. From there it goes pulp to rope or fabric. People have been doing this for a long long time here. Jute is still one of main exports of Bangladesh.

Down an unsuspecting single-car sized brick road, about two hundread feet down and on the left side is a stone marker of where Atisa was born. He was born to the king and queen of the land, himself a Dharma King (Chogyal). And today, that's all there is. Apparetly, the Chinese Embassy in Dhaka donated a bunch of money to construct a pagoda and new plaque at the site. The minister who hosted this construction's name was just as big as the Master Atisa. Who is more important?

Three feet away is a Muslim family who invited us into their home for tea. From them we got a different story of how that was his farm land, and the government took it from him, and didn't ask or offer him anything for it. He wasn't upset about it, but thought it wasn't right. Across the road they were constructing a museum for the site. But what will they put in it? This Muslim man had been there his whole life, and told that in the Liberation War the Pakistan arrmy destroyed all buildings there. That included Atisa's family's home, family temple, and library.

There are no Buddhists living in this region now, and nothing really to put in this museum. There is no excavation or archeological investigation going on, yet all the village people find relics and old stupa every time they dig in the soil. As much as I am for the presevation of historic sites, and Buddhist lineages, I think that there could be better use of the money and space. Build an interfaith teaching center where all the faiths of Bangladesh will be taught to everyone. Not just because this used to be Buddhist so it should be restored to that. Who will go there? Just foreigners?

I know it was not my imagination, but there was a strong energy resonance at the stone marker site. When we were walking close to it, by heart started racing and I felt a strong pulsing in my heart center. I could feel a distinct magnetic field, and truly felt honored to be there, even if it was nowhere.

We drove back on a windy road through other beautiful small villages. Passing so many waterways with indigenous fishing nets resting above the water, and jute hanging on the numerous small bridges we crossed on the two hour drive back to Dhaka. We stopped for the all-important Raush Golah sweets and sweet youghurt (Mishti Dohi). Best had in the village.

By two pm I was back to my house, really charged up from a mission and pilgrimage accomplised. I recently bought a book published from a 2004 conference on Atisa, that also told about the great Masters Tilopa and Naropa who were from Chittagong. We have plans to head there on the 3rd of August, so lets see what treasure hunting awaits there ................

Four Winds,

Yoli aka Kurukulla

PS: It all happens if you just let it unfold.........

To The Village

2006-09-27T19:20:00.000-05:00

the hand weavers of tangail, bangladesh

the boys of our fifteen-member group nazneen, farjana, and zia terracotta work at paharpur

more terracotta and the yard of ruins at paharpur

the central stupa at paharpur

Wednesday July 26, 2006
To the Village

At seven am, a big red bus with green edging and a Bangladesh flag on the front parked outside the house ready to drive us five hours into the villageside of Bangladesh. It had been almost five weeks since we arrived to Bangladesh, and we had not left Dhaka at all. It was a welcomed trip. I have fallen in love with the flag of Bangladesh. It is green, like the lush landscape of Bangladesh, with one red circle in the middle for the blood that was shed to make this country in 1971. It love its simplicity and color variance, which is a bit analogous for my experience here in this land.

Our destination was Bogra, and a hotel named the Naz Garden. Oh yes, we were roughing it at the four-star hotel in the middle of the village. They had a lovely pool, which ladies here swim in fully dressed. It is quite a site. I opted for the swimsuit, shorts and tank top combo. They also had a lake and paddleboats, which is great exercise. I need one of those in my backyard in Chicago. Paddleboat pond with fish.

On day one of our trip we visited Mahasthan, which is the ruin site of a great ancient city of Bengal. Bengal was a great civilization, it's height being from the 8th century AD to the 12th century. The civilization was Buddhist and very advanced. Mahasthan was a centre of international trade and commerce. One could travel in any direction from there. North on the silk route to China or Tibet, East to Burma and Thailand, South to the Bay of Bengal and the Ocean (Asia, Africa, Middle East, Europe, Etc), and West to India.

I love to visit sites like this because if you just relax yourself, and forget about worries of the present day, you can hear and feel the life that people led in the past in these places. It's something like imagination-intuition, with picture glimpses on the tv of the mind. Here in Bangladesh there is no preservation of historical sites, and very often time through history the exposed bricks of the ruins are re-used as building materials for something else. This sometimes still happens today.

This trip was a secondary choice of our organizers. We at first wanted to go to Sylhet region of Bangladesh. These hill tracks of the Northeast region are home of many great Sufi lineages and hill tribal people. The rains this year have been heavy and the roads are washed out right now. Our second choice was Bogra region where we would visit and learn about old civilizations, philosophies, and traditions of Bengal.

This is the heart of my study matter, so the change in trip location was like a dream come true.....which has also been a theme on this trip. Day two brought us to Somapura Vihara, the largest Buddhist University and learning center that existed south of Tibet. Today what you will see is the ruin layout of the entire temple complex and the remaining ruins of the huge stupa at the centre of the complex. In the museum of the site, we viewed incredible examples of small and large statues, everyday use items, including chillums, and holding vessels , and tools. The items were akin to the times and the Vajrayani lineage that prevailed here. This is one of the very important aspects of my intrest and research here and I was very happy to play imagination detective and try to figure out what certain structures were.

There were 177 monks cells that surrounded the outer wall of the monastery. There was a kitchen area, a huge well, and many stupa resting in the front entrance. There were rooms for the abbots and head monks at the western entrance. This seems to be the main entrance of the complex as well. At the back of the eastern entrance sat a mandala room, that included a sixteen "star" pattern that looked more to me like a sixteen-peteled lotus design. It was so amazing to sit there a while and feel the energy vibrating through the stones and bricks.

All along the main stupa in the center was terracotta tiles. These amazing art forms showed yogi and yogini, animals, scenes of nature and the natural Bengali form of that time. The basement level was excavated at one time where they discovered among many things seventy-two pedestals. Archeologists figured these were for statues that were long gone, but my thought is that these were for Padmasambhava's seventy-two wives: the sixty-four Yoginis and the eight Matrikas.

Out of the Northern entrance and a few hundred meters back was the ruins of a Tara temple complex. It made me think that we must be only seeing a bit of what was really the grandeur of the Somapura Vihara. The village has surrounded the ruins, now a protected site. In this land of over-population every square meter counts. There must be more sites, in or under the villages that tell more of the story of what once existed here.

On the final day of our trip, on our way back to Dhaka, we visited Tangail, the famous region of handloom cottom fabric. When we reached it was inbetween rainclouds. The ground outside the mud-walled, thatch roof dwellings was wet, and we made a bit of a mess as we entered house after house of traditonal weavers. The looms are still made of bamboo, with some metal pieces. The floors are mud. Strand by strand the threads are layed out and with other bamboo tools the woof and warf of the fabric is made. After looking and gawking came shopping.

The scence was something out of a movie. Fifteen women in one little room of a weavers house, four chairs, and a rack of sari. It started to rain again outside quite heavily. People were shouting colors and design names over the sound of the rain, prices flying back and forth, fabic everywhere, students arguing who saw what one first, and of course what color would look best on them. An average sari was about 300-400 taka, about $5-6! The handloom silk sari were a bit more, but well worth their quality. I came out with only three, something I was pretty proud of.

On the bus ride home I had pleny of time to think about things....something I seem to be doing a lot of lately. From Tangail it is not that far to Dhaka, but we ended up sitting in two hours of traffic just to get into the city. We crossed the Jamuna bridge, and engineering feat that is the longest bridge in South Asia. Then through some villages and then Gazipur. I saw lots of garment factories in Gazipur and it was here that the city stench entered the air.

During this time, I pondered about the wonder of the civilization that was here, that today we viewed as museums and ruins. Bengal was so very advanced. This pluralistic culture existed in harmony with others, while advancing their own beliefs and scientific philosophies. Women and men lived as equals, there was education and health care for all, and necessities were in abundance. The philosophy that flourished was of oneness of all of creation, and respect for the multi-faceted expressions in nature. I find it so interesting to see all around the world the many enlightened cultures that lived, and most of them fell under the destruction of colonial rule. These people lived fine on their own. When you look to the crisis of poverty in Bangladesh today, it is not the result of a lack of knowledge in Bengali culture. It is a result of the natural system of living being destroyed by modern, material culture.

Don't get me wrong, I am not in favor of turning back the clock and going back to caveman days. But I do feel the importance of knowing what has come before us, the traditons and stories, in order to draw upon this information and harmonize our modern life today. Bengal and Bangladesh is one of many places to look to for a store of knowledge. I think that's one of many reasons why I am here.

A Note on Beer and Partying

2006-09-27T08:51:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

a note on beer and partying

First of all, I wanted to apologize for all the typing and spelling mistakes on the blog entries. No, I do not spell check them, and yes my English grammer is that bad. I have also noticed that since we are doing so much Bangla study each day my English spelling has gotten even worse. Oh well......

So the thing I wanted to share this morning, is about the lengths a young person must go to to get beer, dance, and party here in Dhaka. Bangladesh is not a Muslim country. It is ruled here by Democratic law, but it is goverened in a Muslim majority. So, since the social rules are very conservative what you get for options on beer, wine and spirits is very limited. But, as a foreigner you have as many options as can be there at your hand.

So what ends up happening is that people party very hard and very dirty in home. Friends go to each other's homes, entertainers of all sorts can be called in home, and people keep freakyness behing closed doors. There are five-star hotels where one can get drinks at five-star prices. There are a couple of clubs, which are basically mafia dens like The Privelage I spoke about in an early blog entry. To enter these clubs your must have a foreign passpot. So you will see Bangladeshi people, some drinking and some not, in the clubs but they are from the elite part of this society. You can see an illustration in the photo of me that is on my myspace spot. This photo was taken in a Mexican restaurent in Dhaka, and the signs which are posted everywhere, are a soft reminder that Bangladeshis are not allowed to drink in the open. You can bring your own booze to a nice restaurant, but as the signs say, local folk cannot embark. Interesting no?

The last , and I suppose best, option are the expat clubs. They are all extenstions of the embassies, basically the embassy ammentities spot. There's the American Club, the British High Comisssion, The Bhaga Club, the Nordic Club, the Dutch club, and the International Club. There are more but these are the ones with good bars and swimming pools. A few of us got memberships to the American Club, not just for beer, but for a nice place to chill out, swim, have a workout ( not so much for me...), or just chill without any hastle. Sometimes you need it.

The bar is fully stocked with liquors and things, and they have Heinekien, San Miguel, Corona (yea!), and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. I hear they have Fat Tire (really yea!) at the American consulate comissary. I'm still waiting to infiltrate there. Guiness has been sadly out of stock. So, the American club works in dollars, but you can pay in Bangladesh taka. They have burgers and fries, and tuna sandwiches, and mississippi mud pie. It's kind of funny and ironic to think about it. The American flag flies high, the emergency lights and sirens deck the roofs of the building and some very boring and lackluster people frequent the establishment.

For the most part people are not fun to talk to at the American club, as they are mainly bitter embassy and gov't workers who would much rather be elsewhere thatn Dhaka for a few years. Really, Dhaka is not that bad, but you do have to get out of your safety zone to experience it. For us, the club is a bit of a repreive from the hustle of our program and the suffocation of being around fifteen people all the time. You sometimes forget that you need to be alone sometimes too.

I don't really get drunk anymore, so it is fun to go out with friends and see people get relaxed and rosy cheeked. As much as we've found to relax a bit here is a lot more than I thought we would get so really--> i'm not complaining. A corona with lime is a cornona with lime: only $2.25.

Four Winds

Yoli aka Kurukulla aka France

Outings and Such

2006-09-22T20:34:00.000-05:00

three signs outside the monastery school. timeless wisdom sri sri atisa dipankara of vajrayogini, bengal

me and the large bodhi tree at the monastery

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Outings and Such

When the student mutiny of week three was in full swing I suggested instead of thrusting all complaints onto the director of the program, let us think things out and get them down on paper in an organized fashion. We made curriculum suggestions, and also suggestions for enhansing the program culturally. How can you learn to speak Bangla if you experience next to nothing about the culture?

We have had a few haphazard outings thus far. One was to Dhakeshwari Mandir, which is detailed in a previous blog entry. We also made a trip to the Dharmarajikha Buddhist Monastery. I have taken some photos and will post them when I get the chance. Actually, there was no one to explain anything, and just like the trip to the Mandir, all the teachers that accompany us are all Muslim. None of them have even visited these sites before. I did not want to take the helm, and just start lecturing about this and that. I am a student here. I figured if anyone asked me any direct questions then I would do my best to answer.

The lineage of this, the largest existing Buddhist temple in Dhaka, is Theravadan. The old lineage of Bengal is Vajrayana/Sahajiya. This is perhaps extinct in Bengal now. The Theravadan lineages are from direct influence from Burma, the Buddhist country next door. The monastery here is very large, as are the grounds. Even larger is the 900-boy orphanage that the monastery opperates. The main prayer room is very humble, housing a couple bronze Buddha statues donated by Thailand and Burma. In the corner is an older black stone, I think basalt, carving from an old Buddhist site of Bengal. Interesting, the remain of Atisa Dipankara, one of the great Buddhist masters of Bengal and Tibet and the founder of the Kadampa Lineage of Tibetan Buddhism, have recently been returned to Bangladesh, and rest at this site.

I suppose one of the irritating things for me about these outings is that this group of wide-eyed young Americans, is very American and slightly ignorant of what they shoud do in different public places and how to carry themselves. I only have to look back at myself five to ten years ago to remember how oblivious I was too. That's how I know. The head monk who came to greet us was speaking only in Bangla, and the teachers had no thought to translate little by little for the benefit of the group. They were asking direct questions, challenging at that, about why Buddhist's don't believe in God or in heaven and afterlife. They were asking these question because they are Muslim and don't have similar concepts in their formal, exoteric religious practices. This would have been an amazing conversation to hear, which I got part maybe about 70 percent. I seemed the head monk was accustomed to answering questions like this.

As I exited the prayer room, about six of the students were sitting on a white tiled structure, gawking at monks and orphan kids taking a bath in the massive pond at the center of the monastery complex. If the gawking wasn't bad enough, the head monks comes over and rather calmly requests them sit elsewhere, as they were perched on the top of Atisa's grave. I felt my ancestors shudder.

The highlight of our visit was an unsuspecting fence and yard at the side of the complex. Inside rested an incredible Bodhi tree, that had to be at least 350 years old. Pictures soon to follow. This massive, peaceful fellow shared stories of what was here before, and how that had been a monastery site for a long time. Aside form Atisa'a remains, this place resonated the most on the entire propety. They also told us how in the liberation was of 1971, many people sought refuge here and many people were saved. They are staying true to the Buddhist sentiment of compassion in the present day too, by operating a large school, hospital, monks education, and huge orphanage.

I find it also very intersting that in the program they are trying to show us the pluralism of Bangladesh. What I am finding on my own, is that Bangladesh is even more pluralistic that it seems when you dig just a little below the surface. This comming weekend we are scheduled to visit the ancient Buddhist sites in the countryside of Bangladesh. I am very excited and am ready to dig a little deeper there too.......

Four Winds,

Kurukulla aka Yoli aka France

The Bangla Classes

2006-09-22T20:23:00.000-05:00

18 July 2006
the bangla classes

A few folks have written and asked me about the Bangla (what Bengali language is called) classes and how they were going. I wanted to give a few words on the heart of why I came to Bangladesh for this two-month summer study program. The program is sponsored by three different organizations, all of which are interested in giving an opportunity to students who want to study Bangla. The students in the group that makes up this first-year program, are from varied disciplines. Out of fifteen students four are in grad school, and the rest are undergrad students.

The first goal of this program, in its simpliest words, is to complete one full year of grad level Bangla in just eight weeks. The program was designed to cover three to four

our teachers: farah, nazneen, and farjana

weeks of curriculium within a few days. The program is very true to that. Class starts are 9am. We have a one-hour lunch break at 1pm, and again class from 2-4pm. So that's 6-7 hours of class every day.

The plan was to use a new teaching material being developed by one of the academic advisors of this summer study program. At the last minute, it was decided not to use this new text which is written in Bangla script and Englsh, but rather use a text that was written in the 1950's, and is not in Bangla script but English transliteration.

The course began, and our teachers were doing their best to teach Bangla letters, and some conversation. They had a lot of resources at their hands but didn't know how to bring them all together and teach with them. I decided to make the most of it and speak what little I could and learn conversationally. In the meantime, most of the students are so new to Bangla that they were getting really frustrated in the classroom since many informations were being given to them, but without any introduction or explanation.

Mutiny was on the rise and by the end of week two there was some serious emotion flying around the room. There were tears, there was shouting, and there was loads of wanton complaining that just went nowhere. At the start of week three, it didn't look good. My boredom kicked in, and that is a dangerous thing for me. Once I get bored with a situation, it is very hard for me to get back in and be engaged. Carol, the academic advisor had arrived just in time to observe the drama in the classroom, and to see that in three weeks the students had learned hardly anything.

Carol had her work cut out for her. She needed to get the students back on track on the syllabus. Actually, it was a great suprise to us that there was a syllabus. We had never seen it! She needed to get the teachers to understand that they couldn't teach American students like how they teach Bengali students, and she had to earn the respect of our local teaching staff. There was some difficulty with the fact that our new text was written according to West Bengali Bangla as opposed to Bangladeshi Bangla. There are still some deep seeded animosities between sides within Bengali culture.

Luckily expertise prevailed, and week four was spent getting the class back on track. Yep, they started at the beginning of the syllabus and worked very hard to catch up. I have stepped back into class at week five, hoping for something interesting. The class now is more rigid and bookish, and I dont't think people will learn to speak very much this way. I have some outside conversation partners and have been watching Bangla tv and movies and trying to speak whenever I can. Even when people insist on speaking to me in English.

What I do know is that this course will be something very good in the second and third rounds in the following years, as they iron out the kinks. Bangla is such an amazing language that is creative, accomodating and adaptable to each moments needs. In that way it is funny we are learning a Bangla that was spoken 60 or so years ago. It is already outdated. Well, I suppose we should count our blessings. Most of the Western scholars of Bangla today learned a spoken Bangla that was from 1850!

Head Back Out Of The Clouds

2006-09-22T11:41:00.000-05:00

amazing rickshaw art, very current of the times.....

Monday, July 17, 2006
head back out of the clouds

Well, at the end of the day this is still Bangladesh, and the internet, phone, electricity, and other essentials will work when they decide to. I was out with a viral sinus infection, for which there is hardly any medicine, for five days. I didn't want to see daylight much so looking at the glow of the computer screen didn't sound too exciting either When your head is so blocked up with mucus that you can feel your jaw tighten, and your eye balls feel like they are under a car compressor, you just don't feel like doing anything. So, that's what I did last week. Just about nothing.

This is the start of the monsoon season. It is not so sunny, and not so piping hot, but it rains for long periods of time at Mother Nature's will. So far, and it is just the beginning, this rainy season is not a bad as others I have spent especially in the mountain area. It really rains up there. It rained for a few days, and since then it has been minimal. If there's no rain, then it gets really hot again, near 100 degrees farenheight. There are little health superstitions here in Bengali culture. For example, if a drop of rain hits your head you will be sick, most likely a fever, the next day. I really want to prove that theory wrong, but it did happen that way. I got some rain on my head, and then the next day I was really sick with a little fever and mega sinus blockage and sinus headache.

I had to get myslef to the pharmacy to get some sort of sinus decongestant. If there is one thing I've learned in this part of the world is that if you have to purchase allopathic medicine, check the dosage because they give these enormous dosages here. For example, a girl in the group gave me a couple of dosages of some Sudafed-like nasal decongestant. Each pill is 30mg dosage, taking two for a total of 60mg every 3-4 hours. After getting to the pharmacy, and adventure in itself, and being beseiged by beggars as soon as I got out of the bicycle rickshaw, it took ten minutes of making the pharmacy guys search for the proper medicine ingredient. Over here, they love to give you something with like 500mg of paracetemol. That and a beer and you are good to go!

At last we find the medicine, I buy it and head home with some puffed rice (mori) and super ripe mangos to snack on. I was just about to pop the pill in my mouth with I looked and saw that it was a mere 290mg dosage! Enough for two days! So I busted out the leatherman, and started sawing at this pill. Well, with my body weight half the pill might do it.

A few days of pill eating, menthol steam-inhaling, and feverish neti nose washing, it's a week later I am fully back to normal. I came downstairs for breakfast two days back and wanted some food that wouldn't make mucus. I had words of my Oriental Medicine doctor friend Krishna running in my head. There was white bread, peanut butter, milk, butter, and banannas. No luck for me. So it's any wonder why I got sick how I did. I have probably been eating at least three eggs everyday since I go here. I was simply asking for it.

Well, that is my way of course. I always make things harder than they need to be. I think most of my friends know that! So I have lots that I want to post, but will do it in little snippits from events over the last ten days. Keep looking and more very soon---->

Four Winds

Yoli aka Kurukulla aka France

A Lesson in Cultural Understanding

2006-09-22T11:29:00.000-05:00

Monday, July 03, 2006

a lesson in cultural understanding

We are vey lucky here to have three staff in our home to help us to eat well, stay clean in body and clothing, and have the maximum time to study and learn Bangla. Two of the men who work here have been serving in ex-pats homes here in Dhaka for twenty-six years. Milan and Dada are Buddhist tribals from the Chittagong hill district of southern Bangladesh.

A third local lady, Tasleema, was also working here. Her job was simply to sweep the floor and wash the clothes, which in this house meant putting the clothes into the washing machine, and hanging them up after. The social structure here is like that. In a country the size of Virginia or Wisconsin there is more than half the population of the entire United States. There are 145 Million people in Bangladesh, 16 Million of which are living in all sorts of conditions in the capital city, Dhaka. To give someone a job, no matter how meager it is, is of great importance.

Tasleema is a poor Muslim single mother raising her daughter (single mothers are not something so normal here). We started having big problems with her this week not doing her job and overstepping her boundaries, even in the Bangladeshi context. Most of the other students in the house didn't really get that she was making a lot of fun with them, and taking material advantage of the situation, but in six years in India and plenty of student housing situations, I've been through this one before.

But I questioned myself. Was I reading the situation wrong? Was I reading it according the American culture? Was she overstepping the boundaries in Bengali culture too? Two mornings ago Tasleema burst into my room while I was preparing for school and dressing another student in a cotton Sari. She was crying holding her bandaged pinky finger telling a story that her husband beat her up and broke her finger. Firstly, this is all in Bangla, and since I speak the most Bangla in the house she had chosen me as the receiver of most of her communication in the house.

Something in my intuition was telling me that the story was not 100% truthful, and when I asked her what happened exactly she quickly changed her dialogue and began to gossip about the girl whose sari I was tying. A bit of romance was come up amongst members of the group, as can be expected from and American "summer camp", and Tasleema basically called this girl a slut to her face, all in Bangla since she knew she couldn't understand her. I got shocked and told her straightly to not say such thing, and she went out.

This is not exactly how i wanted to start my morning, nor am I the lord/lady of this house and in charge of its goings on. But on this day it was in my lap. I came downstaris to a verbal argument in the kitchen between the staffs and Tasleema. Her daughter was in the kitchen, and Tasleema continued with this story of having her throat cut, finger broken, and abdomen kicked. I would champion any woman in this situation, but again something was not sitting with me.

At school I approached our head professor for advice. They let me know that I was reading the situation correctly, and that Tasleema's actions were way out of bounds. I had only told them the half of it. Back at home in the afternoon, I talked with Milan and Dada our head keepers and cooks and they informed me of a lot more of the story. Tasleema has no husband and told them that a shopkeeper beat her up over a shop bill. They didn't know if that was true or not. Over the past week she had been subtly asking me for money and did the same thing to me in the morning. She showed no signs of any of the trauma she described.

The gig was up, and as bad as I felt I had to do the right thing and report her actions to our program president. This morning she was informed that her job was terminated and not to come back to this house. Of couse she did not take it well, burst into the house and was shouting and screaming in the dining room just before all the other students arrived for breakfast. I was sitting alone. It came into my lap after all. I had to tell her to keep quiet, that she didn't do her job well, and to get out. Wow, that was something!

If I feel bad for anyone in this situation, it is Tasleema's daughter, just in class six who is most likely malnourished, especially since Tasleema was stealing food from our kitchen, and maybe has a difficult time attending school. How to pay for books and school uniforms?

Situations like this show you who you are. Tasleema has never in her life seen wealth like the nine women who are living in this home. Are any of us rich by American standars? No Way!! But that fact that we have clothes, shoes, music equiptment visible in our rooms, go for shopping almost every day, eat big dinners, have extra money to spend, and throw things away when they break means that we are really rich! Money to burn!

I wasn't happy to deal with this situation, or take one for the team, but I am happy with myself that I dealt with the situation head on, and honestly. I trust I never have to deal with this situation again, but living here in such a poor country on the Indian sub-continent I won't hold my breath on this one. More soon---->

Four Winds,

Yoli aka Kurukulla aka France

Ma Dhakeawari

2006-09-22T10:58:00.000-05:00

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Ma Dhakeswari

We had an outing a few days ago, in the major heat of the day to a "Hindu" mandir (temple). Bangladesh is mostly Muslim here, some quote 90ænbsp; I have already found that statistic to be a bit off. Bangladesh is visibly Muslim but there are also a lot of Hindus and Buddhist here too. No importance is given to them and their lineages and they are not in control politically.

For our outing to the temple we were simply handed a printout from a website that I personally had read before, and that was about it. There was no one to give the students information about the history and traditon of the place. All four of our instructors are Muslim and had never in their lives visited this place. This is not an ordinary temple and is actually not Hindu. This seat of a great female master was originally Buddhist. It belonged to a great Bangladeshi princess, who married the patriarch of the Vajrayana lineage and Tibetan Buddhism. Who was there to tell the story and how did I find out?

When I found out I got into this study program, I was feeling this pounding sensation in my heart center. I thought to obseve it and follow it, I would find its source. At the temple complex, I started feeling funny in my whole body. I was searching around the complex, past smaller temples with seven-tiered roofs and Shiva lingam inside and a beautiful pond full of fish. Like a magnetic energy was pulling me, I was drawn to the back of the temple. I walked up to a guard and without saying anything, he led me to a side entrace to the main shrine room. The doors were closed and he said they would only be opened by the head priest at 4pm. It was 2:30pm. The magnetic pull drew me right to the door's edge. I prostrated to the contentes which I knew rested inside.

Long ago, the ground shook and a special stone revealed itsef from the earth. That stone houses the spirit of Ma Dhakeswari also called Ma Durga and Ma Chandi. The stone is dressed by day, and undressed and put to sleep at night. Now an enclave of Hindu priests, her daily regemin is set by them.

The pounding in my heart center was so strong I thought something was going to come out of chest. I was guided to sit right by the door, and then next thing I know my eyes rolled back into my head, and no matter how hard I tried I was glued to my posture. It was like a movie screen was before me. I saw the place where I was sitting about a thousand years ago, who was there, what it was like, and then I saw the goddess emerge from her resting place and speak to me. She delivered an energy into my heart and I felt the pounding get stronger and expand out of my body. She told me she would always walk with me and that I had her empowerment. I was released from the hold, and after doing one more prostration I went and sat in another area and meditatied some more. When I finished meditating I composed a poem:

MA DHAKESWARI

The mother here is locked in cages

left to the whim of the napping priests.

Though she came up from the earth

to be present with us

We are greeted with closed doors

as though she sleeps.

I think Ma has not abandoned her children

even though her temple is stark and cold.

If one can enter her inner domain

her words come across as strong and bold.

Oh Ma, I pray that you forever walk with me

and continue to show me my inner light,

for the journey is ardeous too

as though I walk alone in the night.

......please take what I say with a grain of salt, at the end of it all it is just my experience........more soon

Four Winds

Yoli aka Kurukulla aka France

Da Government

2006-09-22T10:55:00.000-05:00

da government

In the morning time here, a form of Seseme Street is aired on one of the Bangladeshi TV channels. Seseme Works, the parent organization, has created this incredibly entertaining show for small children.. I am not foreign to Seseme Street as I was raised on it too, but definetly the characters on this one were a bit different. As I was flipping through the channels, what caught me was the exercise in counting one through twelve, which is right where we're at in Bangla class this week. There was a jolly vegetarian Bengal tiger who does eat fish, a jackel who wears glasses, a young girl in a dress who is a bit mischivious, and and older lady in sari and bindi. At the end of the half-hour program, the credits were not what we were used to in America....to viewers like you......it was credited to US AID.

Today is Saturday, the last day of the Bangladesh weekend. I had crazy dreams of going back to the states for a visit, being in my mom's mini cooper, and stopping by the Korean grocery store on the way to the airport. In the dream before that I was at the Northwestern University sailing center where I work and in additon to the the sailboats we have, we now had jet skis and a big yellow tug boat. The awakened morning was a lazy one of chatting over tea at breakfast, and then we decided to go visist our American neighbors next door. They had agreed to sign our sponsor applications so a couple of us could join the American Club, which I'm sure will be the source of many emails in the future.......

Our next door neighbors are NGO (non governmental organization, what the rest of the world calls non-profit organizations) here in Dhaka. As it turns out Patrick is part of the US AID office out here. We had a very enjoyable conversation, much of it was me drilling questions to him about how this whole diplomatic/foreign service/ NGO thing works. US AID does not just produce Bangladeshi Seseme Street, but does and incredible amount of programs in development, health care, fair elections, and industry development, all of which are direct intrests of the US Government. US AID is part of the Democracy and Diplomacy aspect of the US Government and is starting to be absorbed by the State Department.

Oddly enough, who are our main sponsors here....The US State Department!! In our conversations I also expressed how I felt we are not being given all the information on why these language study programs are being put together. My intuition is telling me that we will be told more at the end of the program. Perhaps a fast track in foreign service, or more scholarships? It will be interesting to see what pans out, but I becoming more aware of the inter-connectedness of the whole thing. Still enjoying......

Four Winds

Yoli aka Kurukulla aka France

Crankin It Up a Notch

2006-09-22T10:25:00.000-05:00

this was a light traffic moment of the day

streets of dhaka

Saturday, June 24, 2006
crankin it up a notch

One of these days I will put some photos up on the blog and my space spot, but for now the words are coming first. We got internet in the house, which was how I got the first blog entries up, and then it mysteriously disappeared for the past three days. Friday and Saturday is the weekend here, as Friday is the day for going to the mosque and participating in prayers and the weekly sermon (Jummah). We had a fat chance of someone coming a fixing the server on this day, but as they have been indulging us foreigners to the maximum amount, not one but three tech guys came out this Saturday morning. It took them all of two minutes to discover that one of the students had unknowingly unplugged the modem adapter from the wall socket and that was the source of the trouble. It takes a professional, well actually three, to figure that out. They laughed at us and left. Then we all began to arm wrestle for who would use the computer first.

Though I am the largest person here I waited until the evening time to write, as I am completely and utterly exhausted from adventures of yesterday. On our last school outing on Thursday, I asked our head teacher how to get into Old Dhaka, the oldest and most congested part of the city. Her entire demeanor changed, the blood ran from her face, and her eyes bulged out, You cant go there! she exclaimed. Thinking that she was just reacting I asked her again if it was alright if I went and she agreed I spoke enough Bangla to get there and back. She said if any other students wanted to go they could only go with me and that they were under my charge. I thought to myself, really how bad could it be?

Arent those famous last words? Yes, the answer is yes. It took a long time to find a taxi that day, as most everyone was at the mosque. After half and hour of looking we got a taxi that is not much more than a tin-can on wheels that runs on compressed natural gas. That is a really good thing in helping to reduce the incredibly awful pollution of Dhaka. Compressed natural gas is just about the only natural resource of Bangladesh. It took us one and a half hours to find a small street we were looking for inside of the hectic and crowded markets of Old Dhaka. The street is called Shakari Bajar, the one Hindu community area of all of Dhaka. And it was just one tiny street. In this market, especially, are artisans of musical instruments and conch bangals (bracelets) worn by married women of Bengali Hindu and Buddhist communities. I can never find these big enough for my giant arms, so I was primarily on a mission to find conch bangals (Shakari---for which the market road is named).

For the sake of my three American friends in my care for the outing, all our driving around to find the market was eye-opening. We passed through many markets selling all kind of wares. Very often times, one street will have many small stores selling the same items. In that way, its not like the States with the thought of business competition. It is rather consumer sensitive: one-stop shopping. We passed the plastic and bucket street, the bamboo matting street, the vegetable street, the fruit street, the cheap western clothes street, the slaughter a bunch of chickens street, and the real capper: the goat-meat street. One of the ladies in the car exclaimed, Look at the goat meat hanging up! Look at those cute live goat tied up in the storefront! Oh my God look at those goat heads!! Why are there goat heads???

It was then that I understood that just with the taxi ride alone, my friends had reached their limits. They dutifully kept it together as we journeyed in the market and found the small doorways, congested atmospheres, and raw sewage floating along the edges of the tiny roads was walked down all enchanting.

We had completed our tour of Shakari Bajar and then faced the task of getting out of the market. A task that was. If you read any travel books on Dhaka they all describe Old Dhaka to be like the crowded and congested streets of Varanasi, India. Having been to Old Dhaka now I can say that it is that and then some. Old Dhaka is most likely the craziest place I have ever been to. It took of one and a half hours to get out of the maze of circular and diagonal streets, the entire time trying to find a big street that taxis would drive down in order to get back to our posh part of the city. Heat and dehydration was setting in on everyone and I was getting a little tensed about the status of our group. We needed to eat four hours prior to this point, and I could see the strain on my friends faces.

By this time, crowds of people are amassing around us, lots of locals are whipping out their cell phone cameras and taking pictures of us, and the girls are starting to freak out a little. I grabbed hands and went over to a seller of green coconuts, and refreshed myself with some fresh coconut water. They giggled at the sight of my satisfaction, and began to count the number of onlookers gawking at our site. Just a mere fifty.

When we had all finished my yummy coconut, I announced to the large group of Bangalis that we needed a taxi, preferably an air-conditioned taxi, to head back to our part of town. Within minutes an ac taxi was procured and our new friends in the crowd had organized the fare price of us. All fifty saw us of waving and cheering.

It wasnt until we got to a Chinese restaurant that the totality of the experience began to set in. I was just so happy we made it there and back with all four limbs in tact, it took me a while to ponder that really the market was only twenty-five percent open that day. That meant twenty-five percent of the people, twenty-five percent of the cars and buses and rickshaws, and twenty-five percent of the shops open. I decided then and there that maybe that would be my one trip into Old Dhaka and that I cant even imagine what it is like in full-tilt-boogie mode.

So the moral of the story is that the teachers face got so panicked for a reason, that she was completely and utterly right about Old Dhaka being utter madness and too much for foreigners to take on their own, and thank God I could speak a word or two of Bangla. At the end of it all, and after many thank yous from the three American girls I dragged along to Old Dhaka, I turned and thanked them for giving me something to put on this blogmore soon--à

Four Winds

YoliKurukulla.France

Only 48 Hours to Find Trouble

2006-09-22T10:07:00.000-05:00

me, read the signs carefully!

me and roberto

Thursday, June 22, 2006

only 48 hours to find trouble

It's a real nack of mine.....i need just 48 hours in a place to find trouble, a bar, dancing, etc. Of course I came to Bangladesh thinking that all of the above would be amiss for the summer, or at least until I get to India after the eight-week program here, but as it seems........there is fun to be had here. We are being very well taken care of in the diplomatic district of Dhaka (the capital of Bangladesh). The district is guarded at gates on each roadside with gates and concrete baracades. If you don't live here or do business here you cannot enter the area. This is of course a Muslim country, so alcohol is not found out in the open.......but it can be found.
Jason and I are the two oldest students in the program and yesterday after five hours of Bangla numbers and letters we absolutly HAD to have a beer. We didn't care how much, we'll we sort of cared, but we really wanted a beer. We started walking, out of the gated enclave, venturing towards the Australian, Netherlands, French, and other assorted embassies. There are various 'clubs' around the district that are for foreign passport holders to come and enjoy whatever ammentities exist there. We were on the hunt for the American Club.
Our precious little blue passsports got us into the door and straight to the membership office. We walked past the tennis courts, swimming pool, dvd library, and restaurant. Then up the stairs past the bar and into the office where the informed us how much we had to pay for a memebrship. $40 USD a month. We were only a little convinced until we went on a tour that stopped at the bar. Corona, Guinness, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and so much more. This story may sound a bit alcoholic but please try to understand that it's hot as hell here, sun beating down, five hours of class, sweating like a pig.......ya just want a cold beer. There was Guinness staring us in the face.
Alas, we didn't bring enough money with us for the transaction. We left the club nearly in tears, and started moving towards our house. Jason wasn't having it. He demanded that we find some beer or die trying. Well, something close to that. We found a bicycle rickshaw driver who said he could take us to the precious manna we sought, and after a little expert bargaining, we were off in the direction of some sort of ex-patriate club.
The place was called 'The Privelage' which should adequately describe the setting. Only a foreign passport could get you into the lavish setting, and I suppose you needed a memebrship too. I think they saw the pitiful look on our faces, and shone compassion for our thirst. Ice cold Heineken and Fosters in chilled glasses was our saititation.
We were truly privelaged and seriously patting ourselves on the back for a mission accomplished. This place was huge, built like a hanger two floors high with lots of seating, a pool, steam room, and a twenty foot tall projection screen which would provide our World Cup entertainment for the night. We enjoyed with our new Italian diplomat friend, Roberto, beer, conversation, and cheers for the World Cup game that night.
Hopefully I haven't lost you just yet in the blog entry, I wouldn't want you to think this trip has already degraded to drinking and partying. There is some substance here too. In converstation I learned that Roberto, and Italian Roman Catholic married a Sri Lankan Muslim woman. They had two sons the eldest raised Muslim and the youngest raised Roman Catholic. I was suprised by the situation but remembered from a class on Islam I took this year at the Catholic Theological Union that Catholicism and Islam are not very far from each other in theological concepts. I told him this was an interesting situation, and must have been lively in the home.
He went on to tell me that when the boys matured the strangest thing happend where the boys, all on their own, both decided to shift their faiths. The eldest adopted Catholicism, and the younger decided he was a devout Muslim. The parents were a bit shocked, but in the way that the parents believed that it should be their children's choice.
Really, the point that I got from Roberto's story is a perfect illustration of life for us young people of today. Everything has become a choice and a preference. We are absolutly lost in our preferences and sometimes get backed into a corner not knowing what to do. Comming here, and getting out of my known preferences all I am left to do is face myself. If it is a difficult time, that is my doing. If it is an easy time that is my doing too. Be aware of preferences in that you can convince yourself of anything, and any belief.
Jason and I made it back on Roberto's car and graces, to find an amazing dinner of special Bangladeshi giant prawns! For those who didn't know, eating the big prawn was top on my list of things to do here.....apparently right after learn the language, and drinking beer!!
more soon....four winds......
yoli aka kurukulla aka france

The first twenty-four hours

2006-09-22T09:49:00.000-05:00

home is just across the bamboo bridge

the rivers of bangladesh

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

The first twenty-four hours

Asalamu Alaikum and Namaste from Bangladesh! We arrived just twenty-four hours ago in this amazing land of lush green and swollen waters. It is the end of the cyclone season, the final days of the searing heat of summer, and the beginning of the rainy monsoon season. What more to ask for?!?!? After two days of orientation in Washington DC, which included a trip to the State Department to meet with an Assistant Secretary of State (one of the sponsors of the program), our group of fifteen has traversed the twenty plus hours of plane travel to the other side of the world.

This group has amassed from all sorts of backgrounds and interests, and I believe I am the only one who knows a bit of the local language and culture, and whose research area is specifically this region of greater Bengal. I am instantly humbled by the living situation of the people here, as life in the West is truly privileged. We should give thanks.

The purpose of us being here is to become proficient in Bangla (Bengali language) in just eight weeks. We have been set up in very comfortable housing and study situations in order to manage the six hours of class each day. Missing two days of classes is the equivalent of missing three to four weeks of regular-paced class at a university, so this is really no joke! A lot of time and energy has gone into these preparations, and in a sense were are guinea pigs for a new Bangla learning material being developed. We have a force of six teachers and drill masters, cook and cleaners and an awesome guardsman to keep us safe night and day. Well, so long he doesnt run at the sight of danger.

I am one of the oldest students here. Just a mere twenty-eight, and because of my prior knowledge of the culture and language I have taken a bit of a big sister role with the group. Our housing was chosen by lottery, and nine ladies have ended up in one house, myself included and six students divided between another two houses. We are taking our classes at the Independent University Bangladesh's (IUB) campus, which is all situated in the diplomatic district of Dhaka, Bangladesh's capital. The enormous red-bricked fortress of the American embassy is just three blocks away

Yes, this may be the diplomatic district with some of Dhakas nicest homes, but on a walk yesterday the truer nature of Dhaka was revealed. Past the high fencing and guardsman at gates, was the smell of cow dung and chicken poking around the sidewalk. Just behind a half built wall and an abandoned construction was a large family living village style in bamboo structures and hay stacked in the front yard. Brown-Green water surrounded their dwelling and children ran around naked and barefoot. Ahhh, the real thing just behind the walls. That has been my experience of life on the Indian sub-continent in the past, and I expected the same for life in Bangladesh.

Classes have started for us. Hello/goodbye, may name is, and how are you. All important things to know. Our teachers are mainly Muslim, and it is very evident that we are being introduced to Muslim Bangladesh. But there is more that that. In pluralism of India, the lines are slightly more blurred. Here we are already being taught how to specifically greet a Muslim, or if we happen to meet a Hindu in Bangladesh. I was already corrected by the staff of our house, who happen to be Buddhist tribals of the Chittagong region of southern Bangladesh. In calling them by a respectful title older brother I was asked not to refer to them in the Muslim way, but in the way that they say it. I was trying to use what we had learned in class. What a trouble! How to know who is what religion? It is nearly offending to ask someones religion!

Bangladesh too is a land of extremes: extreme population, extreme poverty, extreme taste and color, extreme raw beauty of green landscape and water ways everywhere..and us here to, in a rather extreme manner, to learn the language, culture, and customs of this ever-changing land in order to well, I havent exactly figured that out yet. More soon

Four winds

Yoli

A Blog--Reposted

2006-09-19T11:31:00.000-05:00

I tried to upload a photo of myslef to put up here, but it didn't want to upload. When my computer does stuff for me or doesn't allow me to do stuff, when I'm in mood, I take it all in a stride and decide that in fact that photo wasn't needed. So this, a hand-carved yogini Tara from the 5th century Bengal will suffice for me. Am I claiming to be a Tara? Well, all women are that Ma Tara, but I am a Buddhist yogini. The blog I'm copying in here, is from a summer of fun in Bangladesh and India. Read and enjoy, more insights to follow.....