Beauty through the Pāgalā

Complete chaos. As I stepped from the airport, enervated by over a day's travel, the damp Bangladesh air instantly enveloped me. I looked around and gasped. There was so much to take in…countless people chattering, eccentric clothing, strange smells, taxi drivers yelling a language I didn't understand, and cars honking. Disarray, disorder, mayhem…complete chaos were the words to describe my surroundings. What had I gotten myself into? As I debated on making an impetuous decision to make a run for it and hop on a plane bound for the United States to retreat to the peace and comfort of the bedroom that I had been in just hours before, Katherine (the other SM traveling with me) and I were warmly greeted by the driver taking us to Bangla Hope. After loading our bags into the musty van, we were on our way. 

The drive from Dhaka to the orphanage was 9 hours. As I stared out the window, I was shocked by the poverty manifested through the piles of trash heaped on both sides of the road, uneven dirt roads, outdoor markets, and little huts serving the purpose of houses. Transportation in Bangladesh involves multiple methods, yet one of the most common forms is by rickshaws. A rickshaw is a two-wheeled passenger cart covered with a beautiful canvas pulled by the driver. They fill the roads with a vibrancy that, despite the hectic noise of vehicles, creates a sense of peace. Halfway to the orphanage, we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. As we sat down to eat, I noticed that although there were plates and water glasses set on the table, the utensils were missing. It soon became evident that we were expected to eat the rice and curry before us with our hands. Seeing the horror on Katherine's and mine faces, the waiter understood that we were foreigners and offered us utensils. However, wanting to fully embrace the new cultural habits, we declined and ate with our hands. Sadon, our driver, laughed at us as we awkwardly ate each bite. 

It was nighttime by the time we reached Bangla Hope. The younger kids were asleep, but the older ones greeted us with enthusiastic handshakes and helped us carry our luggage to our little apartment in one of the dorm buildings. As I looked at the gecko on our wall and noticed the few tiny bugs on the bed I would be sleeping on, I winced, pinched myself to make sure that this was real, then went to sleep due to my exhaustion overriding every concern about my new living conditions. 

I was awakened in the morning by laughter and yelling coming from outside my window. I pulled back my curtain and peeked out. So many kids. Some were rollerblading, a few played nine-square with a bamboo court built by another student missionary, while others were aimlessly running barefoot through the dirt. They were having a blast. Katherine and I quickly got dressed and then walked outside to meet them. Before I even had a chance to blink, swarms of kids were around me. Two raced to hold my hands. Some looped their arms in mine. I didn't even have a chance to say anything before they were all telling me their names at once. Some were touching my hair. A couple of the younger children were shy and blocked out from the crowd of bigger children, stood from afar, smiling up at me. "You're pāgalā!" one of the kids exclaimed. "That means crazy in Bangla," another one chimed in. Perplexed by how these kids could have assessed me in the two minutes I had been standing there, I laughed and accepted their evaluation.

That day we had a water fight that, unfortunately, against Katherine's and my will turned into a mud fight. We had a dance lesson ( I am terrible at dancing), visited the puppies, ate on floor mats, played nine square, and toured the campus multiple times. We played tag, dodgeball, and volleyball, sang songs, made up handshakes, visited the nursery, and braided hair. By the end of the day, I was nothing short of absolutely and totally exhausted. Yet as I sat in bed and thought back on the sweet smiles of those kids and the laughter shared, I was filled with a sense of joy and contentment. 

While the kids have tried to teach me more Bangla words in the few days I've been here the word that sticks out to me the most is pāgalā...crazy. From afar, these constantly chattering/yelling/laughing indefatigable kids always wanting to run around or play a game or hold my hand could easily be depicted as pāgalā and I wonder if I'm pāgalā for choosing to live in a country across the world for eight months surrounded by over a hundred kids all wanting my attention. However, then I think about the smaller, special moments I have with them, and it is then that I get my answer. It's giving goodnight hugs to the kids at bedtime, painting the girls' fingernails, putting unicorn band-aids on scraped knees, or braiding the girls' hair before school in the morning that reminds me why I am here…to show them love. Every single kid on this campus is so precious, and I feel so blessed that I get to know each one of them. Although I have only been here for a few days and have so many more memories to make and lessons to learn, I do know that I have at least realized one thing so far…there is beauty through the pāgalā, and I am so glad that I get to be here to experience it. 

Here are some pics!