06/21/06

To U all: From an end a new beginning….

Has it already been three months? Yes, I have begun this letter with a question…and am now writing in the third person. This is what America has done to me already. I am not sure what aspects of society can change a completely content person who is at peace with herself, mind, body and soul and make her question every little thing. When asked by my father if I have had any epiphanies since I have returned, I squinted my eyes and pursued my thoughts of which shoes to wear with my black dress. I wonder how a ‘world traveler’ (as he has deemed me) can fill such shoes (no matter which colors) when she is stateside.

I am not writing simply to bash the US or rather us as it seems. I am here to make observations as they seem fit from a ‘returned peace corps volunteers’ point of view. Whether this view is from above, from the right or the left does not matter to me so stand beside me as I attempt to sort my thoughts.

Writing was much easier in Bangladesh for some reason so I decided to recreate the environment. At this moment I am sitting outside under the blistering hot sun sweating profusely as the sounds of traffic play in the near distance and black flies gather around drowning in my pools of sweat. I have just finished putting my photos into an album and was overtaken by a monsoon of memories from my life in Bangladesh, all happy and hopeful.

The hopefulness is something I gained from the amazing people I grew to love in that far off place. I am lucky for the technology of email and mobile phones as my friends and students have stayed in touch. One of my first and favorite emails from my friend, Rajib, brought me to a tearful smile. Rajib would come and meet me after my class and walk with me through town conversing about the differences and similarities in our cultures. The following is an excerpt from his email that I should print out and use as an affirmation when Western society bears down on me:

"Hi Cieana, Your silence cuts me to the quick. But hope by the grace of almighty you are in excellent health. Long days have gone by and changes still nothing erase the memories those few moments we spent together by walking from your institution to Eview. Although you are far away from me still the excellence and independence of you character, your high intellectual attainment, your personality, sweet reproaches your honesty and soul starring talk all that crowd together in my mind today and demand adequate expression. No compliment can be high enough to appreciate the versatility of your genius. That reached in the deepest core of my heart…I never been found like u so noble so great and respectful to other religion and culture. I really proud of you."

Amazing right? I wish I could get him to write me a letter of recommendation someday. We have remained in touch and his poetic emails remind me of the strength and compassion of the people in Bangladesh.

My student, Jahid, has also been in close contact and has begun an English club along with fellow classmates. I have agreed to continue working with them via Internet and am excited to continue challenging and learning from them. Liton, my best friend and closest family member, has emailed and phoned me a few times with such happiness and excitement I feel that I am sitting with him in his cybercafe drinking tea and snacking on biscuits. He also fills me in with the news of the country, the situation is getting worse…there have been many riots, hartals, and the loadshedding (loss of electricity) is at its worst ever. He tells me that the other volunteers who have remained, the Korean and Japanese, are put under great restraints but will stay in Country. The greatest news is that a new Korean volunteer will be coming and living with my host family (Runa and Arno) as they enjoyed having me so much and are opening their home once more.

All of a sudden Bangladesh seemed foreign again; so far away. I suppose living up on the mountain in Vermont doesn’t help. When I found myself in New York City in a taxi cab with a Bangladeshi driver I couldn’t contain my excitement, or when I saw a women in a NH parking lot dressed in a beautiful shalwar kameez and her mother in a sari I was touched. It is empowering and unexplainable the emotions I feel when I see such things. To be able to see them and understand them, their culture, where they came from, their customs, their language and, most importantly, their religion is irreplaceable. I have gained so much.

At the same time I have lost so much because I have returned too soon. It has not taken long for me to have returned to my prior habits. Going into Brooks pharmacy and feeling as though I ‘need’ all of the lotions and potions. Turning on the television and becoming mesmerized by the choices. I honestly still have a hard time watching TV. All of the new shows with the same old ideas are embarrassing. So books have been my fallback….my escape.

However they have not taken me far enough and again I will be leaving to enrich myself while working to help others. I leave in a couple of weeks for Jamaica. For those of you who know of the great poverty and hardships in this country, you understand why. For those of you who don’t, stay tuned to continued journal writings while I am working in country. My new Peace Corps work will be as an HIV/AIDs advisor. I will be working in and with clinics as well as with NGO’s to provide care and education. My role will be extremely different, the country will be extremely different but I will be the same.

Much alike Bangladesh I have been told horror stories as well wondrous things. And once again I hope to arrive in country along with my 55 peers with fresh open eyes, a warm open heart, and an awareness that keeps me safe, grounded and at peace. The preparation for this second Peace Corps service has been challenging. Whether Washington is testing me or failing themselves, they have done everything possible to make my ‘re-upping’ difficult. From losing my medical forms, my dental work, my x-rays, melting my passport photos and then not offering reimbursements when they force me to redo, retake, and resend everything! Oh, Peace Corps. But I used my ‘patience, persistence and flexibility’ (Peace Corps’ mantra) to work with the people in the office to get me ‘back in country’.

So as this email is far from smooth, or even entertaining I will leave you with some words of a fellow volunteer who has also fallen back into the American materialism but he too can tell there is something amiss and is reapplying:

"Something about being overseas, there was something very interesting. After a couple of weeks something happened to me. Bangladesh itself was/is very dirty and calling it overcrowded is an understatement. After a while though, I saw things clearer. Never in my life have I written as much or as often. Ideas, I came up with things I never thought possible. It took me a while to figure out what it was. Then one day walking down a hill it hit me. I'd spent 8 months away from all my habits. TV was in a language I didn’t' understand. No advertisements compared to home. Nothing really to buy. All I had been doing was walking around, thinking, and writing. My brain felt as if it was at rest. Free from the Consuming frenzy we call America. It was almost a natural high. I felt so peaceful inside, no urge to shop or consume or imagine I was someplace else. One could call it boredom at first, it quickly became something much more though. Much more soulful..."

I too can feel it, that longing, connection, depth... Although I have had some great times while home with my family and friends. Hiking the mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire with Greg, reliving the days of being a cruise hag with Jill, climbing rock walls and Eureka rd. with my mom, being mesmerized by the sounds of Lynn Skinner with my Dad, driving through the most beautiful sunrises with Adam, delving into the mystery of the code with Lajla and Sasha, going back in time to days of UNH with Skip and Kayla at their apt., practicing zenergy at the studio with Sabrina and the TopNotch ladies, working with a great staff for wonderful ladies at Green Mountain at Fox Run…and as I have some time left the experiences and laughter to come.

Although I won’t be as far away this time I will not have a cell phone and, until I find out where I will be living and work towards setting up a land line, I hope to communicate through letters (those things written on paper with a pen) or email if possible. I hope to continue my experiences from Bangladesh in terms of my personal work, service and self-growth. You will all be with me traveling along and having an impact on my thoughts and actions, as I hope to be your window to the world once more. Yet, remember that all windows have two sides, so keep in touch and soon enough my epiphanies will come away from shoes and return to the shore…Continued Peace, Sienna

Here is my new address in Jamaica:

Sienna Creasy

c/o Suchet Loois

Peace Corps

8 Worthington Ave

Kingston 5

JAMAICA

"As a traveler I can achieve a kind of high, a somewhat altered state of consciousness. I think it must be what athletes feel. I am transported out of myself, into another dimension in time and space. While the journey if on buses and across land, I begin another journey inside my head, a journey of memory and sensation, of past merging with present, of time growing insignificant"

- Mary Morris, Nothing to Declare: Memoirs of a Woman Traveling Alone

March 25 2006

MY home, my piece of peace, the change and the music within

The BIG move was bigger than I thought it would be as you will understand by the end of this entry. I spent the week before my transition purchasing lightbulbs, a ceiling fan and a gas cooker. Yes when a Bangladeshi family moves out they take everything, it reminds me of Dr. Seuss’s the Grinch that Stole Christmas when he takes even the crumb that was too small for a mouse. I was lucky because my new home sat high above the district town of Mymensingh (6 floors up to be exact)….therefore there were no mice to eat my crumbs. Moving day was a bright and sunny Saturday as I finished boxing up the last of my ginesh (stuff). My friend Liton had Nanu (his and Runa’s mom) make me kola pita (banana cake) for a farewell breakfast. I tied my orna around my shoulder and waist (servant style) and was ready to be put to work. I began to carry a box out to the front of our home and was told by my host father (Rafiq) to put it down. He asked me what I was doing, with genuine surprise. I had been so excited for moving day, finally some manual labor…being a gluten for punishment I couldn’t wait to haul these boxes 6 floors up to my new home. Little did I know that moving is not done the way I had imagined. Liton rounds the corner of our family community with a rickshaw wallah following close behind pulling his van. Yes I am sure you wonder how a thin Bangladeshi man would be able to pull a van. Well I should first highlight that Bangladeshi men are ripped (their muscle tone is visible)….let me correct myself and say that ‘lower class’ working men are very strong. It was not odd to see a sixty or seventy year old man pulling a rickshaw with a full six pack of abdominals and calves of steel. Now for the van…this is a four wheeled contraption that has a flat bed board and is pulled by non other than a bicycle. I’ll never forget when I was told by a senior volunteer "we will take a van to Nupur’s dinner invite". I thought I was amongst ‘boro lok’(rich or big people), then I saw what she meant when the ‘van’ pulled in. They are used for moving large items, or four people. There are not many vans in Mymensingh, so people just load into rickshaws (yes four of them)….motorcycles are also quite popular and yes I have seen four grown men on a motorcycle. So back to the move…..

We loaded the van and then had to take pictures because photos are necessary for every occasion. Then Liton and my host brother loaded into a rickshaw, Runa and Rafiq took the next one the van wallah followed behind and I took up the rear on my cherry hero (red bike). Yes it was a moving parade….I rang my bell the whole way to be festive. The van wallah’s job was also to unload, however I was unaware that this was included in his work description and began carrying all that I could lift up to the ‘penthouse’. After the last box was set down and my family said their farewells I closed the door and took my first breath of air and independence in my new home.

What a perfectly (sundor) beautiful place, standing out on the veranda (behind bars) I could look down on the entire city, I could here the bells of rickshaws ringing and the horns of cars beeping in the distance. Somehow all of those noises no longer mattered because I was home. I slept so peacefully on my floor mattress underneath a huge window through which I could see the moon and stars above my head, the sunrise glowed through brightly as I crawled out of my mosquito net the first morning to find. EEEKKKK….telepocka (literally oil bug) or cockroaches. That first morning I found eleven cockroaches throughout my apartment. They were all flipped over upside down and waving their legs through the air as I crunched them dead with a book. I still to this day do not know how they all ended up on their backs. My friend Shelagh’s guess was that in their stupidity they tried to fly and because they are too heavy and their wings too small they took a nose dive, landing feet up. I had thought maybe the breeze from my ceiling fan blew them over, but I was just happy they weren’t crawling around on their feet. After the thorough clean up of the first pocka I came to the second pocka group. The peepera (small ants) had found their way into my oatmeal…there were tons of them making my breakfast to be into their new bungalow. Well since I had seen people on National Geographic eat ants…not quite sure if they were the same ones… and from a tree, I figured it couldn’t hurt me to try.

The ‘antmeal’ wasn’t too bad….I lived to tell about it didn’t I? However, after a few days I was running low on the necessities and was looking forward to another trip to the market. I already had my favorite fruit dokon, these Hindu guys who were always smiling and gave me a deal on apples. I also had other favorite shops that began to know me well and set such things as ‘peanut butter’ aside for me each week. It is a great feeling to be a part of a community when you are a foreigner and to be accepted as a member. I ventured out on Friday (Bangladesh holyday) another warm and sunny morning to stock up on bananas, noodles and other bachelor pad food necessities (BISCUITS) when I received a phone call from my office.

It was the sweet voice of Shamaila who was one of the program managers for my region of the country. She asked me if I could hear her, of course I was in the middle of town amongst beeping, bells, people, loudspeakers…and cows. "Yes I can hear you, of course". She then told me that a volunteer had been threatened and I need to come to Dhaka for consolidation; there was no sound of urgency in her voice. I was none too happy as I had plans with my friends for a futbol match the next day as well as a picnic program. I also had a lunch invite at my students house in an hour that I could not cancel for I didn’t have his number. So I put the phone call in the back of my mind, the sun was shining, I was smiling and nothing had changed. I went to my student’s house and was sat in the sitting room as I talked with his siblings answering the same 20 questions. Then I was brought the best spread I had been treated to in awhile. The snack was papaya, apples, bananas, grapes, and oranges. Then kichuri (rice mixed with lentils and vegetables) and noodles (much like ramen). After what seemed like a Thanksgiving of a meal I gave my thanks and took a rickshaw home to pack for Dhaka.

That day was my last rickshaw ride, my last time in my apartment, my last day as a Peace Corps volunteer living in Mymensingh as a member of the community. After a week of confusion consolidation in Dhaka, where the embassy was collecting information, while Washington was researching threats made and rumors heard, while we waited to hear exactly what was going on. I don’t know if I will ever know exactly all of the things that took place. What I knew was that there was a verified threat made by JMB (the Islamic extremist terrorist group) to kidnap a particular volunteer. There had also been the recent arrest of the leader of JMB Sheikh Abdur Rahman and his second highest in command Banglabhai. Actually the arrest of Banglabhai happened in my town. It was a very crazy day, my class couldn’t sit still and finally we took our course on the road to join the thousands of other Bangladeshis to watch him be brought from the ambulance to the helicopter. I stood with my students for hours under the hot sun waiting in anticipation, they said "madam this is a very good day for Bangladesh, we do not have to be afraid". But after the capture of these men their interrogations led to other information that you will see below in the news links and captions, the fear remained.

I sat with other volunteers waiting to hear what would happen with my service, my future, my life has I have made it in Bangladesh. The country director stood before us and spook "Peace Corps Bangladesh has been suspended you will all be evacuated immediately". I couldn’t believe it, I still don’t sometimes. Not only were we told that we were leaving immediately but that no one could leave the hotel, we could not return to our homes to say goodbye to our families and friends, to pack, to see our towns one last time, to give gifts to people in my city, or buy things for my friends and family in the states, we were on lock down. I cannot explain in words how this felt. All I can think of are the words ripped, imprisoned, torn, taken…my whole world changed. There were tears, looks of complete surprise and others with nods of understanding. The group was mixed with B8’s my group and B7’s who had been there for 19 months. The 8’s that I talked to and cried with shared the same frustrations "we have only begun, there is so much left unfinished". In a place where volunteers normally take 3 to 6 months to begin their goodbyes, farewell ceremonies and preparations to leave, we had one day.

That last day was a whirlwind of smiles and hard crying, the kind that wrenches your stomach and gives you headaches after. I felt like one of the luckiest people in the world as my Bangladeshi family and friends really came through for me. Liton spent most of that night in my apartment throwing my things together. I told him all I needed was my passport and some clothes, laptop and other necessities. But he replied "I will get you the maximum of your ginesh (stuff)". Another friend Raton sent a car to Mymensingh to pick my bags and Liton up and bring them to Dhaka. I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, and saddened that I had to say my goodbyes in the lobby of a hotel. What do you say to people who have opened their hearts and homes to you…when you are told their country is not safe for you? How do you tell them that you may be a target of terrorists when they have done nothing but protect and care for you in all ways possible? I could not explain to them what I was told, because I still did not understand it. I told them it was the decision of Washington, as it was. I felt so lucky that they came to see me and I was able to say goodbye to two people that made a great impact on me.

But the others, my class, my host families, my friends, my neighbor Meem whom I visited weekly, the dokon owners with their wide smiles, the girl who lived down the street and wore bright shalwars and smiled at me every day asking how I was….I will never know her name. There are so many people who have changed me, opened my eyes, taught me….I can never thank them and tell them what they have done for me. I called my supervisor (DD sir) and he sent me back a message that said "the person Sienna who we have come to know and love will never be forgotten, a name that stands for integrity, honesty and compassion will always be remembered, stay in touch as you are always a part of our family".

That night we were whisked away unto a bus, a flight to Singapore (4 hours) then Tokyo (6 hours) next LA (9 hours) lastly DC (5 hours). I didn’t know the day or time when we got to the states, it was cold. We went through our ‘transition stage’ filled with meetings, interviews, writing our service description, medical appointments, and a whirlwind of questions with few answers….I still have so many questions. Although we were back in the states we were at a convention center and still had not been in the outside world, all I saw were volunteers and suits. They brought us sweaters and coats from goodwill as well as socks as it was 80 degrees when we left Bangladesh and most people had only the clothes on their body…it was snowing. The center was so clean, so ungenuine.

As I took the taxi to the airport with Shelagh we held eachothers hand as we returned to world that we left 8 months ago. Where were all of the people, the colors, the sounds of bells and horns and smells of turmeric and garbage that I had grown to know and love, where was the call to prayer coming from the many Mosques and the man on the loudspeaker screaming bangla, where was the excitement in the streets and marketplace and the big brown eyes of children? The last flight I took alone, no other volunteers…the reality kicked in. I began to think of the other volunteers and how much they had also become family to me, we shared experiences that I will never have again, and never want to forget. These people also impacted who I am and what I think, believe, and hope. Each one is so amazing in their own way and strong, we all left so confused.

Now I sit here on the couch in my ‘home’ in Vermont. I feel somewhat like one of the small plastic colored pieces from the game Candyland. I had made it past lollipop princess and was well on my way when I all of a sudden flipped the purple plumpy card and returned to the beginning. Of course the journey will always be a part of my past now. I was taken from my place and brought back to where I had been; now I will only see new if I go further.

My family all met me at the airport and gave me the hugs we have been talking and writing about for months. They are happy that I am back and safe, I am also happy that I am safe. But still feel unsettled about being ‘back’ I feel that yes I have gone back, backwards, I have returned, but also have turned. I imagined all kinds of things had changed while I was gone, I thought the music, the movies, technology would all be different…but only I have changed. Life is pretty overwhelming as I forgot how fast things happen in the US. For example I sent in an email to a Women’s fitness and health center about teaching some classes part time. I was called back twice later that day; I was not ready for that. At the same time my head is still fresh with memories and stories of Bangladesh ready to be told to whoever will listen. But everyone has stories and things to talk and tell about of their own. I am no longer the ‘rock star’ American English teacher that everyone asks thousands of questions from what I ate for breakfast to my political preferences. Now I am lucky if I am asked paper or plastic. In turn I will miss all of the questions I asked Bangladeshis, such as their stories, thoughts, beliefs and even breakfasts. I wanted to learn about everything that was around me, now I need to work to keep that mentality alive, continue feeding my curiosity and surrounding myself with new, unusual and different places, people and ideas. I know you are thinking what now, what next…and I am not ready to tell you yet….sorry but I am still reflecting.

The process of reflection is bittersweet like a piece of fruit that begins bitter sometimes puckering up your face then after time becomes sweet like a perfect dessert. I am still in the bitter stage. Feeling bewildered…I am saddened by the things that I put off because I had ‘time’. From wedding invitations, to putting on a Sari (cultural dress) with my host mom, to buying gifts for people in the states. I always told myself I have two years, I have time, there’s no rush. Well no there was never a rush that was a beauty about Bangladesh I will always cherish. But there also ended up being no time in the end when the end came, the time was taken away. I realize now through reflection that there were times when I would escape the reality that I was living in and take time for myself. I do not regret this, I should correct myself and say that I do not have regrets just realizations. I realize now more than ever before how amazing Bangladesh and the people are. My feelings about Bangladesh played through the speakers in my home last night as the words of Tracy Chapman floated through the air. My first visit to Mymensingh my friend Liton played Tracy Chapman on his computer and last night I was brought back to that moment, that memory of Bangladesh

I’ve seen spirits

I’ve met angels

I’ve touched creations beautiful and wondrous

I’ve been places where I question all I think I know

But I believe

I believe this could be heaven…….

If we have faith in humankind

And respect for what is earthly

And an unfaltering belief in peace and love and understanding

This could be heaven on earth

When I sat in Washington and Gaddy Vasquez the director of Peace Corps told us that we served in one of the ‘hardest’ posts I just smiled. To me Bangladesh was my heaven on earth, not in a religious aspect but a place where I felt so moved, a place so different and full of peaceful and loving gentle people that I was lifted out of what I had known and opened to a country so rich with passion and love when family and friends were the most important people and things. Don’t think for one moment that Bangladeshi people were hateful or harmful…a very few had poor intentions and now the whole country has to and will suffer. Luckily Peace Corps Bangladesh has only been ‘suspended' and when/if the political situation improves they will reinstate our program, this will probably not happen until next January after the elections are over. I will always have a part of my heart in Bangladesh and my eye on their news and changes; I hope that you will do the same. Thank you for joining me in my journey around the world, we have come full circle sooner than hoped but as far as I am concerned the ride is not over yet. As you can see my BIG move ended up being larger than I could have ever imagined. I feel blessed that I was given that week in my apartment to feel what it was like to live in my own place in a place so foreign yet familiar, I feel blessed that I was given those eight months to learn and grow with my peers and on my own with the cultivation from the culture and people of Bangladesh. I will always look back and smile, for me it is not that far away. I am lucky to know that I can find heaven here on earth.

AssalamWelekum, Nomeshkar, PEACE. Sienna

"There is a voice within you that no one, not even you, has ever heard….There is a welcome for you at the heart of solitude. When you realize this most of the fear that governs your life falls away. The moment your fear transfigures, you come into rhythm with your own self." (John O’ Donohue) I did not feel the same fear my friends and family had for me. I always felt safe in Bangladesh amongst friends, strangers and in solitude, this will have a forever lasting impression on me. I found that rhythm once and know that it is not lost forever. We all have that beat, strum, chime within whether American, Bangladeshi, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim….someday we will meet and hopefully share a rhythm the world can dance to.

03/02/06

Class, Language and the weight of it all!

I have just returned home from teaching my class. If only it were that simple, getting into my car and turning on the engine (ac, radio, pressing a button to roll down my window) and closing out the world. There is no such thing here as closing out the world, only when I am alone in my room with the curtains shut do I not see another person. It is hard to imagine such a thing, as I walk through the streets talking to my dad, he is deafened by the sounds and motion of Bangladesh (and that’s over the phone). I am dodging rickshaws, cars, children chasing me for ‘baksheesh’ (money), men exclaiming "Good night" (it is 10 am), cows to my right, dogs everywhere, flea-ridden and losing their hair, cats eating from trash piles, crows fighting over carcass remains of who-knows-what, and all the people. I can never truly paint the picture of density, in numbers from a 2004 Human Development Report there are 1,042 people per square mile, and I am just one of them.

But after my class this density, this craziness, does not faze me because I am in the zone. Anyone else who has taught before in their life knows what I mean. What a high it is to stand in front of a room amongst eyes and ears all watching and listening to what you are saying. How exciting it is to have these minds thinking, speaking and understanding. I can tell that I am already making a difference, opening their minds to possibilities, options and ideas. Every day I walk to class nervous, thinking about my students and my course, I am worried that maybe they did not understand the homework, or that Rita will not be there because her daughter is sick again. I am invested in them. I want them not only to improve, but to imagine…I want them to see the whole world as theirs, the same way that I see it. But my students do not feel this way; they do not see the potentials in themselves that I can. In a homework assignment, when asked the question, "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Many of them answered, "Madam, I could not go anywhere in the world," or, "Ma’m this is not possible." These answers break my heart.

But their hearts are strong, filled with hope and love and dreams. They all want to do great things in the future but I have challenged them. I have asked, "Why not now? Why do you have to wait for ‘the job’ or the position in life to do such things? Why can’t you begin now?" I feel this similarity exists in the United States and possibly world-wide, as well. Many people are waiting until they have reached that special place of power where they will then act, change things and do good. What they don’t ask themselves is what can they do tonight or tomorrow…..it is always down the line. I shared a conversation about this problem with my supervisor (DD sir). I was invited to his home for dinner two weeks back.

As I showed up the electricity had gone out, so I sat out on the porch as the mosquitoes made a great meal of my ankles and feet. His daughter came out and sat with me asking various questions as his wife prepared the feast. DD sir and I conversed about different issues in Bangladesh and problems with children today (I felt like a 40-year-old mother talking about my kids, not a 23-year-old English teacher). But in a way, although most are older than I, some married with children of their own, they are my kids. He educated me about how most youth (18-35) live off their parents and only attend school, coaching (study) centers, and tutoring programs so that they can get "THE job." I laughed thinking about all of the various jobs I had starting from age 15 such as washing dishes; my class couldn’t believe that I did such things. Here class (social structure) is very important. People will not go below their level in society, will not work the "lower class" jobs. It’s no wonder there is such an unemployment problem here. As our conversation came to a close dinner was ready and I was sat down to delicious dal, rice, vegetables, fried vegetables and all kinds of treats. As soon as I finished something, DD sir’s wife would spoon more onto my plate. I could barely keep up. Finally, I had to call it quits and we settled back into the sitting room. I was then asked a question that no male boss in America would ever ask his female employee: (I am sure your mind is flying…..oh the tension………ok well no its not that bad……………..)

He said simply as though asking my name "how much do you weigh?" I could have spit out my drink if I were drinking anything. My eyes widened with surprise and I kind of smiled like, are you serious? He just waited for my answer. I told him, "Well, since I have come here I have gained weight so maybe 160 lbs." BUT he wanted it in kilos, which I didn’t know…..so he pulls out the scale. HAHA, seriously. There I was getting weighed at my bosses dinner invite, and it gets better. Once my weight registered he called to his wife, "Come here. You gotta see how MUCH she weighs." Yeah, so I had to laugh. I still have to laugh ‘cause sometimes there is just no other way to react. The funny thing is maybe how much of a big deal I thought this was. Maybe America has too many social rules, regulations…I mean it is just a simple question right?

So although I am teaching (providing an arena) for English, I recently celebrated International Language Day. (I am sure you all celebrated it also.)

Here schools, offices, and all shops were closed. It is actually Mother Language Day (February 21st), and is a very important day for Bangladesh. "Mother Language means the language which is used to express one’s attitude, feeling, emotion, and mood of mind," explained Husn(my student).

On this day in 1952, many Bangladeshis died as martyrs protesting against Pakistan to keep Bengali as their National Language. This day is held in memory for those souls and is recognized around the world. It is a very proud day for Bangladeshis. As my student, Jahid, has wrote, "When I think our language is the International mother language then I feel peach in my mind" I am sure he meant "peace." I was also able to celebrate this day as a Bangladeshi and show my gratitude to the martyrs who lost their lives to keep their Mother Language.

I awoke at 6 a.m. and proceeded to the town hall with my friend, Liton. He came to meet me and I told him we have to go barefoot, as my students had told me. At first he disagreed saying we could remove our shoes when we reached the town hall, but I stubbornly told him it would be disrespectful. HA, what did I know? We hit the road, walking in and through who knows what barefooted (I hope that the medical staff isn’t reading this) to notice that no one else had bare feet. But I didn’t care. I felt I was showing the utmost respect. We arrived with hundreds of others as you will see in the picture, where we all gave flowers and paid our respect. I returned home later with pitch black feet and a new found respect for the Bangla language and hoping that my teaching English wasn’t going against what those martyrs fought for.

It is very frustrating how important people here hold English. I hear it daily: "It is the international language. If I don’t learn I will not succeed in life, etc." I am stopped in the street and told that I will teach people English. I am asked by women who then show up at my house to teach them, that they cannot pass their interview and get a job without English. I feel overwhelmed by this. How can individuals living in their own country not get a job because they do not speak a language that is foreign? Well it is very possible and common. I feel lucky and relieved that I am a natural English speaker, or as my DD sir calls me "a native American." You who are reading this should also feel lucky, as there is no great pressure from our birth to learn another language or even culture for that matter. However, is it luck? If I could change anything about my schooling it would have been to have learned another language from when I was young, I am lucky to know Bangla now as I would not survive here without it. It has opened doors for me into other worlds, cultures and communities that I would not have gotten a chance to have seen before.

I know for most of my family and friends in New England the cold is on full attack and I will send you all as much heat as possible because my back is permanently soaked with sweat. I am told summer has come early and is hotter than ever, lucky me. I wish all of you the best of luck on your journeys and adventures. I hope that you too are challenging the minds of others, walking barefoot to get the full experience, laughing when you are taken out of your comfort zone and looking at others to see all of them, because most likely there is much more to their story, to their life, than you know.

I love you and hope to hear from you soon.

Peace, Sienna

02/16/06

Knickers, Peanut butter , and Birds falling from the sky

It’s been awhile since I have pulled back the shades, unlocked the hitch and let you look into the window of my world. I apologize for what I could call negligence. I will never forget when I first heard that word here. It was while I was living with my first family in Gazipur I was eating my breakfast and looked up at the Vermont calendar I had given my family and noticed that it had not been changed for the new month. Chaina (my host mom) noticed where my gaze was set and a look of embarrassment came over her as she stood up and simply said "negligence". She then changed the calendar smiling. For some reason I will never forget this. I must tell you that calendars are a huge deal here, people love them. They give them as gifts, have them hanging all over their house and treat them as art. However, it is not the days of the week and numbers that matter, it is the pictures. Seriously people have calendars hanging from 2002, to them it is a work of art and not a planner.

A couple weeks ago I went back to Gazipur to visit my family for the day. I was filled with anxiety about what has changed in the town and with the people. As I rolled through the streets in my chariot of a rickshaw I noticed many more women in burkas and fewer girls out in the streets and bazaar. I got to my old home and was greeted warmly by my host father who sat me down and quickly placed sweet cake bread and a glass of water in front of me, and so it began. Visiting here is actually just an eating marathon. I had also made plans to meet with Shelagh and Shawn who were in Gazipur visiting, so I had to pace myself. Chaina was in the kitchen busying herself with lunch preparation and looked up to give me a huge smile which I gratefully returned noticing she was wearing the orna I had given her before I moved. While lunch was cooking I walked over to Shawn’s house to visit and was again sat down while biscuits, chanachur (spicy, crunchies) mishti, and coconut balls were placed in front of me. It is very important to eat when visiting or else you hurt the host’s feelings, and I didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. I returned home for lunch and finally got to spend some time with Chaina who gave me tons of hugs and squeezed my cheeks, she hadn’t changed at all. The food was delicious as always, however I was saddened to learn that Cookie the servant now works at a garment factory. This is the sad future for many bua’s (servants) and I know that it is not a great atmosphere. Time was running out as I had to catch my bus and still had to visit Shelagh’s family. I arrived to bowls of sweet shamai (sugar noodles) and pita (fried dough) I ate what I could but was on the verge of bursting. We took photographs shared hugs and before I knew it I was waving goodbye to Gazipur once again.

Our training group was very lucky to have had Gazipur as a site, with the small villages, beautiful scenery and of course amazing families. However, due to the recent events such as the suicide bombings Peace Corps will not use Gazipur for training again. One of the reasons that I have been negligent in writing this past month is because of a large commotion throughout Peace Corps over a newspaper article that came out in January. The article was titled "JMB set out to kill peace corps volunteers" it contained information that led sources to believe that JMB (suicide bombers) had planned to attack us when we were training in Gazipur but due to the SAARC summit in Dhaka there was extra security and their plan was foiled. Bangladesh was recently visited by Pat Hogan from Washington D.C. who met with the embassy, the office, volunteers and various other officials to check the safety and security of this post. From what I have heard there is no threat to volunteers at this time, and I feel that this is true. So in the meantime like I have written before I will go about life as I have because living in fear is not living. The good news is that Mymensingh may be a new training site, although I couldn’t imagine 60 new volunteers being trained in this city for three months I am open to the possibility of it.

In other news my Spoken English class has begun and madam Sienna is in high demand. My first day of class was a great test of patience as I unlocked the door to my "office" which is a dark hole of a room with no lights, chairs, and tons of mosquitoes. I was told 5 minutes before my class that there will be no class today because the DD sir was leaving and they had to prepare for the farewell ceremony. So I made the announcement to my enthusiastic students that class would begin tomorrow. I have gotten used to these sayings "I’ll do it tomorrow, it’ll happen tomorrow". I then had to deal with the extra twenty students who must join the first batch or their lives will be ruined forever. Actually I am still dealing with students who want to join my class as I received a letter yesterday from a boy who offered in writing to be my personal servant for no charge because he had to learn English. I couldn’t believe it, but of course had to turn him down…I did keep the flowers he gave me though (hey it was Valentines Day)…..Soo back to the farewell ceremony, that I of course had to attend because I was the bideshi English teacher.

I was told by the office assistant that the ceremony would begin at 2 and they would provide lunch, so of course I was there right on time. The room was full of empty chairs and I cursed myself for actually believing something would start on time here. I sat and waited, staring at my fingernails, looking at the view from the window. At 3 people began filing in and soon the room was filled with other instructors and ‘boro lok’ (important people). Then I saw the ‘lunch boxes’ these cardboard boxes are always filled with all kinds of goodies, mishti, fried vegetables, chips, biscuits…I was getting quite excited. I was handed a box and waited patiently for others to open theirs, I peeked in and my heart dropped. It was a warm baggy of white rice and another baggy of sliced lemon for taste. Everyone was happily digging in with their hand shoveling the rice into their mouth making a wonderful mess of their suits and sari’s…I joined in of course. Finally an hour and a half later the farewell ceremony began. DD sir sat at the front of the room next to his wife and the AD madam. To the right was the podium where just about every person there made a speech, even I had to say something. The interesting thing was how emotional everyone got, I suppose I am not used to seeing so many grown men cry, but this room was water works. Throughout the speeches people would get up and take pictures with their phones, and there were tons of side conversations, but the best was this one guy who kept getting up walking behind the speech maker and hocking huge lugey’s (snot balls) out the window. I have to side note here that lugeys are totally acceptable here for all people at all times. Women will be in mid conversation and then draw all of the saliva and mucus into the back of her throat and spit it out. I have still not gotten used to this, and I never hope to. So as the wooden chair began to grind into my back the hours passed by until DD sir made the final speech. During his speech his cell phone rang and he took the call, he actually left the room. This is just a small example of how ‘boro lok’ act…I am getting used to this. Five hours later all the speeches were finished all the tears were cried and blessings made and DD sir closed in saying "maybe I’ll see you again, maybe not….goodbye, goodbye, goodbye" oh the drama. I rode my bike home thinking that was nothing like any goodbye party I have ever been to.

As we all know parting is such sweet sorrow. I have recently parted with three pairs of underwear and am still mourning my loss. Somehow an underwear thief has infiltrated my family compound and has made away with some of my favorite knickers. Even more of a reason to why I am looking forward to moving into my own apartment next month. Of course I love my family but after being an independent college student and living on my own for four years these past six months…soon to be seven have definitely made me appreciate that independence. For example when Runa (my host mom) told me last week that I shouldn’t be eating peanut butter it is making me fat, I had to draw the line. I have gotten used to the Bangladeshi culture of people calling each other fat, and pointing at blemishes and asking me what they are, BUT don’t mess with my peanut butter.

So yes my weight is fluctuating as well as many other things, I mean the stress (tension) levels here are heavy. I recently had to visit the Peace Corps dentist because I have been waking up with a sore jaw and sensitivity in my teeth. I was told I have TMJ and have been grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw while I sleep. I was fitted for a mouth guard, or what I like to call a bit and will have it by next week. The woman explained that many volunteers get this here due to high stress…I told her I do yoga and meditate….If I didn’t I would have probably grinded down to the gums. I am also still trying to do some running however it is beginning to get hot and will soon be impossible. The other morning I was out and had a new experience…aren’t they all! But this one was quite peculiar because I shared a look of surprise with a Bangladeshi onlooker as well. I was tooting along Main Street minding my own business as I heard the sound of (fwaap) directly behind me, it was like a heavy leather boot falling from a roof. I turned to see a huge dead crow lying on the ground, it had fallen from the sky…just dropped dead. I looked up at the woman beggar on the corner and we both exchanged our surprise. Continuing on my way I somewhat chuckled because in America there is always the fear that bird shit will fall from the sky and land on you, here it is the whole bird.

Some of you may think, how could she chuckle at such a thing. Well put yourself in my sandals and soon you will have to laugh. It is part of getting by. For instance I will be going under the knife this week at Dhaka hospital for mole removal…did I ever think this would be done in Bangladesh no of course not. But now my scars will always carry that extra story….the story still to be lived out and told because this surgery will take place tomorrow. Until then I will bid you farewell…or as they say here goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. I will do my best to not treat you all like a calendar on the wall and will stay better in touch as nobody enjoys a person that practices such negligence. Some advice is to keep an eye out for your favorite knickers, enjoy your peanut butter no matter what, and watch out for birds falling from the sky.

Much love and adventures,

Sienna

I just thought I would give a fair warning regarding some of the elements of this letter. Sienna has written about the celebration of Eid al Ajhar which I had no real knowledge of and though, from the sounds of it, she spared us a great deal of detail, it still was a bit shocking and unnerving to think of Sienna experiencing the ritual all alone. The whole ritual seems so bizarre but I'm sure anyone that has visited the slaughterhouses in Texas would think the same of that scenario. At any rate, the faint of heart may want to skip that part even though it is very thought-provoking and a part of the journey.

It begins after the row of stars. ********************** and ends at the next row of stars.

01/13/06

Curl up by the fireplace, crank up the heater, turn on the hot water…and think of me.

So, I woke up this morning to the sound of a rooster call and thought to myself, “What is that bird thinking to be out in this cold.” Presently I am concentrating much harder to write as I cannot feel my fingers, YES, the temperature here has dipped quite low this past week and will remain so. I am happy to report that I have been sporting the lovely old man French Canadian style dress of wool socks and sandals…yes, you can laugh and you had better. I am not sure if it was due to this "season change," as the Bangladeshi’s call it, or from stubbornly sleeping with a fan on to drown out all the noises of the night but I finally got the fever. No, not the Saturday night turn on the classic footloose and jam around the house fever. I got what they like to call here JhOr it sounds more like some great medieval warrior doesn’t it? It went a little like this:

All of a sudden, the tough Vermont mountain girl started to feel cold, I myself was astonished by this new temperature change within. I crawled into my bed and curled into a warming fetal position as my teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. This was followed by the finger and toe-numbing extra flab dancing shakes that attacked my body with vigor. I was reminded of the times when I was a little girl and my mom would send my brother and me outside in the winter to play and would lock us out until our noses and ears were good and red and cold (so, of course, we stuck our faces into a snowbank). After doing the convulsion jig for about an hour, Ajeda came into my room to check on what I was up to and, not seeing me, called out "Auntie, where are you?" The shaking leaf was covered in her blanket. "In here," I answered. Surprisingly, she asked me, "YOU are cold." I stuttered out a, “heh’’(yes), and was soon buried deeper as she threw a thin mattress over me as well as a pillow over my head. I stayed there for about an hour. Runa came and felt my face and said, “JhOr.” I thought “No, not a fever…more like a freeze over.” I had not yet felt my own face.

I am not sure when my body changed from a cold corpse to a crackling cauldron of heat but it happened. Kicking off the mattress and taking off my fleece, hoodie, extra layer of pants and wool socks I lay in bed letting the heat emanate off my body. The thermometer only read 102 which was not a big worry for the Peace Corps office as 103 was the "call-if-you-have-an-emergency temp." So I suffered through the night of dizzy spells, body aches, and, of course, the lovely fever-breaking sweat. Okay, this is getting to be a bit much; all in all I had a fever. It lasted a couple of days and, in retrospect (although at one point I swore I had malaria), it wasn’t all that bad. I was lucky to still be living with my family and they took care of me and I got to rest, in the end it was just another day in the ‘desh. I was actually lucky cause I have heard some pretty rough ‘fever tales’ one of them being a close friend whose name I will change to Shelly to save face. She had one of those hot headed vomiting fevers and her family was a lot more interactive. To bring the fever down they would pour buckets off cold water over her head and during the ever so fun vomit phase there would be 2-3 “helpers” in the bathroom…and I won’t even get into the logistics of the toilet. I am definitely not looking for sympathy as I have heard that my family has been fighting some pretty bad flu germs. With that being said I hope that all of you are taking your vitamin C and turning your fans off at night .

I was able to get better just in time to share in the celebration of Eid al Ajhar. This Eid is quite different from the Eid that I experienced in Gazipur with my first family that broke the month long fast of Ramadan. This Eid is all about the cow, “guru” as they call it here. Even when talking about cooked meat, there are no words like “hamburger, beef, steak,” etc. It’s just cow. A few days before Eid there is a huge market where special cows are sold and it is the will of Allah that every family up to 7 people can share one cow. Goats (chagle) are also added to the festivity. My family bought our goat about a week early and the kids enjoyed playing with it and feeding it, I named it Chagleeza Rice as its’ call would ring through our home all night long. I even ventured off to the ‘meat market’ and found that, as usual, I was the only female there but had gone with my friend Sunny who helped me to work through the crowds so I could take photographs. I even befriended a cow myself as you can see in the photo and was ready to save it and ride it into the sunset if I knew I could escape through a crowd of a 1,000 Bangladeshis.

The morning of Eid I woke early and bundled up in my Shalwar, hoodie, and wool socks and sandals; to head off to Morning Prayer. Now, of course, women are not actually allowed in the mosques or at the prayers so I ventured out a bit late planning to catch the tail end. The air was thick and dark, heavy with grey fog and the streets were empty and eerie. It had never been this quiet before as rickshaw wallahs were circling near mosques waiting for their customers and all the women were at home preparing food. The Hindus stayed safe inside as cows are sacred to them and what was going to take place would be quite upsetting. I went to the largest prayer area, a huge field full of Muslim men in their white Punjabis and tupi caps, it was very moving. It was hard to tell where the sky ended and they blended into the fog looking down into open hands as if each person had the Holy Scripture before them. The prayer closed with ‘assalam welukum’ and a second after the air was again filled with the noises of Bangladesh. The rickshaws ringing their bells, the voices of excited men on their way home. It was like a parade procession. The streets were lined with beggars waited for the close of prayer in hopes that compassion and generosity had entered the hearts of those who had participated.

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As I neared my last turn to get home I saw a large crowd gathering over a fence and knew that first sacrifice was occurring as the cries of a cow echoed through the streets. I quickened my steps hoping to make it safe inside before I had to be a part of the next slaughter. I turned onto my street to see three cows lined down the road before me with blood pouring out from their necks and Bangladeshis pushing and pulling on them as their bodies convulsed in shock. I myself was astonished as I had to bare witness to the sacrificing of Eid. This scene filled all the streets of Bangladesh, as every 7 Muslims were to sacrifice a cow…and there being 155 million people here, with 90% of them being Muslim…..cows were everywhere. I am not the best with blood as I couldn’t even watch ER back in the states and was able to shoot a few pictures before I entered my gate to stare down the dead body of my family’s goat. Safe at home I spent most of the day curled up inside hiding from the bloody streets. I ventured out to see what had been my family’s cow, turned into a pile of meat being cut up and bagged to be shared with neighbors and the poor. I stuck to the mishti (sweet) Eid day food, favoring halua made of mainly sugar and carrots as well as shamai which is like a dessert vermicelli.

It is almost impossible to describe the streets covered in blood and the carcasses of cows. Children all around watching, giggling, and witnessing these animals lives being taken from them so they can be fed. The rest of the day was spent skinning the animals and cutting the meat. It is quite a humbling process, much unlike going to the grocery store and picking out that pre-cut, pre-wrapped, pre-priced, prepared meat. Each person has some hand in the killing, cutting, cleaning, and cooking of their meat. This sacrifice provides food for everyone in the family as well as the poor people whom the meat is shared with. My families fridge is packed full of cow and goat and I am just happy that we have a fridge because most people don’t and cannot save their meat without getting sick from it later.

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Most likely when I move out on my own I will not have a fridge and will get to learn the practice of cooking food just for one meal. This will be very different from my childhood where my mom would make a big meal on Sunday and we would have ‘leftovers’ all week long. I have realized that when I move out it will be the first time in my life I will be living alone…of course, it has to be in a foreign country half way across the world. I have spent the past two weeks apartment-searching and it has been exhausting. The search consists of walking all over the city looking for signs that read "to let" or read “bari bara” in Bengali. Some places that I looked at are still being built and ‘should’ be ready by next month; there were some that had an outdoor cooking area and no running water. Of course, Peace Corps has standards as well as a set budget, about $50 a month. So I have other qualifications to meet, as well as my own sanity. After finding a place that is renting I am ushered into the landlords apartment and barraged with questions usually consisting of ,"Why would you want to live alone?" or the ever so popular, "But you are a WOMAN". Then there are the landlords who don’t want the risk of a foreigner in their building. Most ask why I am not married and one told me that there are many good bachelors in Bangladesh for me. I told him that I don’t eat meat or like rice and he understood why I was single (haha). Then there was a woman landlord whose mouth was filled with red pawn leaves and was lacking the teeth needed for proper speech; she insisted that I live across from her so she could visit me every day. All in all, I haven’t found a place yet that I can afford and live in while keeping my sanity and sanitation.

The search continues….in the meantime I am ever so grateful to have a home for this month and a roof over my head. As the cold season has arrived there are few ways to get warm, I have a wonderful heavy blanket my family gave me to use. The houses here are like concrete freezers and there is no fireplace or source of heat other than hot tea or a bucket of hot water that I use to bathe with now. There are many homeless people who have even less and I know this is a problem all over the world. I am working on a clothing drive as a few more layers could always help and there is always extra in one place when there is a lacking in another. Finding the right place of overabundance is the new challenge as I see poverty everywhere. I hope that all of you who have something extra are willing to give it to another. May all of you stay warm, healthy, and enjoy your meats wherever they came from.

Peace, love and warmth, Sienna

1/05/06

Don’t give up…I know you can make it good "Peter Gabriel"

Soo the past has passed, the future is further and the present is perfect….

There would be times that I sat in my room and just thought to myself…what next? I would find myself always worrying about the future, thinking and dreaming about it. Then there would be times that I would think about what was, what I did, could have done differently. I would dwell on the past on experiences that had become memories. Now I find myself thinking about what is, I sit still and simply breathe and feel the here and now, I listen to and watch my mind, thoughts come and go, memories and plans float through but I am able to come back to the now. This has been my "new year’s resolution" I suppose. With the recent situation and changes and questions floating around my head these past few weeks it has been extremely comforting and relaxing to just be. It brings me back to some very special times in college in Professor Rosenfields class when we would get into a meditative state of mind and just feel our breath. I have come to realize that I can now do that on my own and it has made quite a difference. The reason I am sharing this is because right now is a time where most people in Bangladesh are talking and thinking about the past and the future.

As the recent suicide bombings have brought a dark cloud over this country it has also caused some changes in our Peace Corps program. Before Christmas we had safety and security meetings that highlighted some of the oncoming possibilities for volunteers in Bangladesh. They began by telling us of the new ‘trip wires’ that would bring us into consolidation "putting us all in Dhaka where we would be safe in the diplomatic section of the city". Such ‘trip wires’ include voiced threat of harm toward foreigners, attacks on women for not covering their heads, public support of JMB (Islamic extremist terrorists), suicide bombings in a volunteers post, and various other reasons. They then offered us the option of taking ‘interrupted service’ this is where a volunteer would return home and within one year would start their Peace Corps service all over in another country, or re-instate in Bangladesh when it is safe. This is of course if an opening is available in another program and if the volunteer wants to begin all over going through training again. This week about 8 more volunteers have left taking this option. For various reasons volunteers leave Bangladesh all of the time, but Washington has given a blanket option that allows for service to be interrupted. So that being said I have given this option a fair amount of contemplation and discussion. At first I was quite defensive, I had my guard up and didn’t want to ‘quit’ or run away from the problem. After receiving an email from Professor Rosenfield whose advice I hold with the utmost respect I called some of my close friends here and we talked about the options, I discussed it with members of the office and with volunteers who have been here for a year (B7’s).

From my conversation with the B7’s I was able to learn even more about this country, its past and its possible future. I was told that last election year there were 178 hartals throughout the whole year which shut down the country. As the government is put in the hands of ‘caretakers’ during this time there is no ruling party. Most feel that this is a peaceful and safe time for the country; others feel it is the worst. I have heard horror stories of men raping women and of laws being broken because no one is in control and such humane laws are not enforced. These volunteers have told me that this country has changed extremely in the past year, girls who would wear jeans and photwas (long shirts) are now wearing burkas, women who would go and do marketing and walk in their village do not leave their home now. All in all these volunteers told me that the most frustrating part of their service in Bangladesh is that it is one of the few Peace Corps countries where you are not fully accepted into the community. They have found that the most they have been able to really do here is be consistent, to show up, and stay here. This country has been forgotten about by the US, Europe, and most of the world. Aside from the natural disasters there are also political and religious problems. Yes it is challenging, yes it is frustrating, dirty, and loud, there is arsenic in the water, and yes . . . I am staying.

Ok so I have heard some horror stories about the past. I have been told that this upcoming year will have many problems; that Peace Corps will consolidate us and then we will be evacuated. But, here I am in the present. I know that I am both stubborn and optimistic and of course have felt afraid at times here. I do however also have a great sense of intuition and follow my instinct. I have realized that at times it is ok to be afraid as Mark Twain has written "Courage is resistance to fear; mastery of fear - not absence of fear." I am using these times I feel fear to help me to better understand who I am, why I feel such things and what to do with such feelings. I know that the office here and Washington as well as the embassy and friends and families at home are all looking out for me in some way or another. Actually I may be the safest right now then I have ever been in my life, if safety is a feeling of security. I have talked to my family and have their support to follow my instincts, my dreams, and my heart. It is important for me to use times of fear to empower myself and those around me, to let it help me to experience all that I can and share it. As Bangladeshis are afraid also, they do not support these acts of terrorism they are a peaceful people and do not deserve the deaths that they are dealt. It is important that I am here right now to experience this with them as I have families here now, friends, and a life. At the same time I acknowledge that I also have families, friends and a life back home in the states and for this fact I feel that much richer. I always have the option to leave, to return home where it is "safe" and this is what makes my experience here that much more important. As my dad calls it an adventure, it is truly becoming so with every sunrise. As I am staying in the here and now, here and now I want you all to know that your support, honesty and experiences at home help me to smile when some days are at their worst. I wanted this email to be truthful about what has happened and may happen here but even more so honest about what is happening now. As this moment is the most important one in our lives. I am safe, happy and ready to begin this New Year one breath at a time, take peaceful steps wherever you go and see what surrounds you because nothing is permanent, or should be…..and of course smile.

Santi (Peace), Sienna

Don’t give up…I know you can make it good "Peter Gabriel"

(a letter to Nana from Sienna she wished to share)

1/05/06

Dear Nana,

So as I was able to tell you over the phone the Christmas tree, trimmings and gifts for the family arrived on New Years eve. It was quite perfect as the kids decorated the tree and I watched happily sharing in one of my favorite traditions, at the end I put the angel on the top and we all exclaimed how sundor (beautiful) it looked. After they opened their gifts when I explained that they were from my Nanu (Nana) who lives in America. Runa was quite excited about the microwave egg dish and we gave it a try the next morning as I get to help show her a bit about cooking (in the microwave, the best way I know how). The kids enjoyed the bouncy balls, and Arno took over Ajeda's Christmas pen because "she can't write" I explained it was her gift and he had his own. But in a way our cultures are much alike in the kids will be kids aspect. And the similarities continued as the whole family wanted to take pictures with the tree, all together, then individually, they were quite hams I must admit. Next we broke into the candy canes which was my favorite part as Ajeda ran to the window to spit hers out and Arno scrunched up his face and said they taste like toothpaste, Runa did the same and I was just cracking up watching them try to get the candy cane and its minty taste out of their mouth. After I got to spend some time alone with tree and some gifts the mom sent (mainly toiletries that I needed). Although it was New Years eve it was Christmas for me. If the tree and goodies had never arrived Christmas would not have come at all to the village, it is not a holiday that is celebrated here unless you are in Dhaka.

Which lucky for me I was in Dhaka for the Holiday itself. As you know I got to spend it with my 'expatriate' family. It was great to share in their traditions as the kids are young 6 and 10. On Christmas eve we went unto the roof to spread glitter and leave food for the reindeer then we had Mexican food as Roberts mom is Mexican and it is a special tradition of theirs. That morning I was woken up at 7 to share in the stocking opening and eat cookies, it just felt really good to be with a family and get to share in their holiday with them. The best part for me was when Shelagh came over and I got to give her, her gift. I gave her my watch as she lost her's and missed it dearly, I rarely used mine and she was so happy she didn't want to take it at first (that's how you know its a good gift). So I still got to celebrate my favorite part, the giving. We spent the day together talking about Christmas traditions and went to a special dinner that was terrific I could have never expected it or asked for more (well maybe to have been with my family of course). But it was a truly great day and one that will never be forgotten, and now that all the hub bub is over the tree still stands glowing at night because its beauty makes me smile. I suppose I will keep it throughout the year maybe as a 'fake' plant because I have no storage, so know that your thoughts are well appreciated. The only thing I need now is to know that you are well and happy. I love you so much you crazy angel, Sienna

12/17/05

‘We are only a collection of the experiences we have had’

Reflecting on this past week, I come to think of the saying ‘we are only a collection of the experiences we have had’…and I would like to extend this to the places we have been. Whether it be far around the world, or simply in the peace and quiet of our own backyard, or sitting on the deck far away from all looking over a freshly snow-powdered landscape. Where were you this morning? Yesterday and the day before? It is interesting to look back at the footprints we have left in different places, to think if we have been there before, or if we will ever return. It puts a lot into light to think I may never be at or see this place, this flower, this sight again.

Yesterday we had a big program. That’s what the Bangladeshi’s call it. Myself, along with my sitemate (Andy) and a peace corps senior, Laura, (who has already finished her service here and helped to train us and is now looking for work with NGO’s), my family and friends, as well as 3 Japanese volunteers, one Korean volunteer…and a partridge in a pear tree . . . took a day trip up North to Durgapor. This is as close as I have gotten to India and it was gorgeous!

It had been 4 months since I had seen a mountain, which I had taken for granted being from VT. The air was fresh and the landscape was breathtaking. We rented a microvan and traveled over the bumpy road until we reached the river in which we continued by boat for an additional 2 hours. While on board we ate kichuri (rice mixed with dal and vegetables), as well as achur (made of olives and is, well, unexplainable in taste). There are foods here that I have never tasted before and cannot compare to anything. If I knew I could send them home in less than a month, mail time, I would, but fear by the time they reach you they will have spoiled. Many are made fresh and are meant to be eaten that way. Therefore, I will, of course, learn how to cook such ‘delicacies’ so you to can feel the glorious and sometimes brutal outcomes of various foods.

OK, back to the ‘program’… It is somewhat hard to explain because I was so ‘at peace’ as my brother has said. Enjoying the moment, . . . the company, . . . the warmth of the sunlight, . . . dipping my feet over the side of the boat into the refreshing water and leaning back to take it all in. If only such ‘programs’ lasted for life . . . but as you all know bliss is a feeling we are meant to have and miss, . . . if we didn’t it wouldn’t be bliss (good stuff). While on this trip we visited two Christian missions, to see the area, and use the bathrooms. Much like the mission in the forest reserve they are mainly inhabited by tribal people who have converted to Christianity. The second one we visited had a sign at the gate stating that ‘non-Christians’ were not allowed (I didn’t think that was very Christian, or missionly of them). But the day in and of itself has become a great memory of laughter, scenery, swimming (not me), eating, and being a part of the beauty that this country has to offer. If I am able to take little day trips to the village areas like this every week I will definitely be able to handle the ‘city life’ of Mymensingh the rest of the time.

As I am writing this letter to you all, I am sitting in my home. My host mom is to my right sitting on the floor cutting fish with a kitchen knife...don't ever make the cook mad! *) Back to places we have been or, well, . . . I have been. I am not making any assumptions that you have been nowhere that is email worthy. Actually type it up and send it over (or to be more blunt, write to me!). I was very lucky to have a distinguished guest join me this past week. I had met her in Dhaka at the American club, she is working as a Nanny for her UVM professor who is doing research here. Yup, you read that right UVM…another Vermonter, Brandi from Burlington. Beginning our adventure in Dhaka I was trying to be extra cautious as she was a bit worried with the recent bombs. We took a CNG ( 3 wheeled baby taxi that runs on natural gas) I swore that the driver was taking us the wrong way and demanded he stop, we got out and didn’t pay, took another CNG which took us in the exact same direction…nice work Sienna. I was thrilled to bring her to Mymensingh as she had not yet left Dhaka and wanted to see the "real Bangladesh." Arriving at home our meal awaited us, the beginning of "real bangladesh" (eating with your hands), eating rice, dal, and overly oiled vegetables . . . with your hands. Runa had prepared all kinds of special ‘heavy tasty’ foods that are unique to Bangladesh and Brandi got a true taste of culture as well as a belly ache from the true AMOUNT of culture that we are forced to eat.

This leads me naturally to the next stop on the tour: the bathroom. This had scared me a bit at first; also before I arrived. I could not imagine it, . . . now of course I love it. I think its much better and prefer it over Western-style toilets. Some of you may be wondering what I am talking about so I will give you synopsis, and include a photo…(out of all the amazing pictures I have I present to you a bathroom photo). So one squats down on the two ceramic blocks and carefully aims into the hole in the ground while filling up the spicket with water, once finished using the LEFT hand and water one splashes themselves clean, wiping with their hand. Of course it takes some getting used to at first…Brandi would mentally prepare before embarking on the experience by removing her watch and taking a deep breath. She too began to see the wonder of it all (much like Foxwoods Casino) after exclaiming that it is much more of a mindful experience. In the past going to the bathroom would be somewhat of a lazy endeavor where a person would rest, read, watch TV, talk on the phone, ________(fill in the blank with your preferred potty past time) but here you are always on your toes, Literally. You pay attention to where everything is going, what you are doing and how it is happening, sometimes it is exhausting and turns to a form of yoga exercise much like holding a pose for a long period of time. OK, I have gone too far, but those of you who know me well are quite used to this as I always take it just a bit over the edge. So in closing, flushing, or rinsing (as there is no flush here…yup, it doesn’t just disappear. It slowly sinks into the ground - like a drawn out burial). I hope that your next experience in the bathroom is one full of mindfulness.

Brandi and I continued on with the journey investigating all sorts of tastes along the way, and embarked on travels to the Ramakrishna Hindu Ashram where we were invited to join their beautiful prayer ceremony, to the Madhupur forest reserve where once more I could be surrounded by banana trees and monkees, and finally to the Agriculture University plantation richly covered with flowering plants and lush fruits. It was so great to have a friend here with me, to see, meet and experience the people and life that I was living. It helps to share this place in person. Brandi’s love for Bangladesh grew as did mine, she helped me to see beauties in this place that I had not yet seen and I was able to share with her amazing people that have become a part of my life here. After being together for four days she left Mymensingh physically but has left an impression of herself on this city. She will be traveling to India next week and will be living their for the next six months. I am sure that our paths will cross again soon as we both continue living in a world so different from the one we know.

Now as I am writing Ajeda (the bua, or servant…who is 10 years old) is sweeping. She had me lift my feet to wipe them off and felt they were cold, so she went and got me house shoes to put on. I know, and here I am coming down on Bangladesh boys…ok I will write a book titled Bangladesh bideshis (foreigners). But you know that I am so grateful, especially for Ajeda. She is a treasure and has a smile that lights up the room every day. There are some days that I want so badly to be touched. Not in the way that I am touched by the people and scenes of this country but the kind of touch that warms the outside of the body as well as the inside: a hug. It is the simplest thing that I had taken for granted. I would see my friends/family and we would hug, hello, goodbye, or just because. Here I do not have that. The other night I was feeling lonely and sad and could use just a big, little, any size hug would have sufficed. I could not just go and grab Ajeda and squeeze her cause she would definitely pull away in fear. So I had to do the next best thing. You would never guess in your wildest dreams what that would be. I took my hair down and sat on the floor and she began to sift through my hair one section at time looking for poka (head lice) which all of you know I have recently became a survivor of. Well little did I know that the torturous itching of those little bugs would offer me a window of opportunity. It brought me back to elementary school when the nurse would walk around with her pencil and check everyone’s hair for lice, even then I would ask if she would do mine twice as I love my hair being played with. Here I am now looking for the same treatment. We are creatures of habit aren’t we. So, first she would rummage through my locks and find no bugs (for this I was grateful but she had only begun), next she would rub my head to loosen hair and then comb through with her fingers collecting fallen hairs…I cannot believe I am telling you this. But it has been typed and, as I am never the one to turn around and go back when I am lost, I also do not delete things once I have typed them, or retract my words once they have been spoken.

So with that all said and done I was able to get that ‘touch’, the warmth and care, from a 10 year old girl who knows so little about the world but has grown so fast. I see the little girl and the grown mother in her all too often fighting for control of her body and mind. She is awake before the family boiling the water for breakfast, sweeping, and collecting fresh water from the deep tube well. She is playing outside, running through the small yard and collecting flowers from a low hanging tree. She is sorting through rice sifting out small rocks, and rummaging through the trash to pull out reusable containers. She is watching Tom and Jerry on television, laughing and dancing to the music played from a neighbor. She is being told to bring the food, serve tea to guests, to wash the laundry and the floors. She must sit on the floor when she eats and can only take food after everyone else has been served. She looks at me with brown eyes, full of sadness, wonder, youth, and maturity. She is a child stuck in the role meant for no person. I am told her family lives far away and that is all. My family here takes great care of her, but it is an inconsistent switching of roles, it is unsettling, and confusing. How can a child find their place in the world if they cannot be the child that they are. Or, do I actually not understand, what actually is a child, do all young girls have that motherly instinct. Sometimes I feel like a doll, as at this very moment Ajeda has come in and brushed my hair and put it into a pony tail, after she cleaned the mirror with her dust rag. I feel that in some way I am here to help brighten her life, to smile at her with every chance and give her the childhood that she deserves. I mean aren’t we all trying to find parts of our childhood we missed out on. Sometimes it seems to me that is what growing up is all about…not getting older but finding that youth within. Living in the day to day adult world of jobs, deadlines, reports, proposals, etc., we look forward to nothing more than to play, sing, dance, laugh and smile…with each smile the child within us shines through and then we have found our place.

I never know where I am going to end up on these journeys through my mind to the computer keys. I only know where I have been and that is what I hope to share with you every chance I get. My wish is that you all do the same, let me know where you have been, your experiences and footprints on the world, and, of course, the times that made you smile. I love and miss you all.

Peace, Sienna

(a part of a letter to Nana Lynn 12/8/2005 and the pictures followed)

Hello Misses claus....with such a cause.

You are too sweet and I am really looking forward to these packages as I have not felt the Christmas spirit much yet, as it is still hot and well there is no red or green to be found. However tomorrow I will be volunteering at a winter charity bazaar and hope that I will get a bit of spirit then. My class has not started yet but will begin in the start of the New Year as my office has many hoops that I must jump through before I begin such as applications, interviews and all that jazz. I have gotten into a few other programs in which I will be writing about in a mass email you should get soon . . .

. . . Ajeda . . . she has started her life as a bua (servant), I try to get close to her as she is the sweetest girl who always smiles...I will attach a few pictures to help you to see the hearts you are helping to warm. I love you so much...and would never forget the meaning of Christmas...

Big hug and kiss.

12/08/05

"Head lice, Hartals, Monkeys . . . oh my!"

Hello there all of you back in tv land, land of the free home of the braveheart, all for one and one for all as I have heard once or so in my time…yes I am rambling, its healthy.

So more time has passed, it does that every once in awhile, we blink, or nap, or work our butts off (I wish literally) to find that another minute, hour, day, week has slipped through our fingers. And so it is I sit here again with a blank page and a million stories, memories, and photos in my mind and on my e drive, asking myself what ones do I share…if only I had the hours and the interaction to tell the stories. But since it has become my duty as madam Sienna, the new spoken English instructor as well as up-and- coming yoga instructor I will tell my part as I have seen it, heard it, and lived it.

I spent the better part of last week in the Capital city of Dhaka, where just being outside for a day is equal to smoking one pack of cigarettes. I had to go in for office meetings and to get my annual, (or so I hope) Influenza shot to help protect me from the Bird virus if it happens to come this direction ( I don’t believe it’s headed this way, as Bangladesh has enough to worry about without chickens to fear). Since I was in the office I decided to visit with the medical officer before I returned home that day to find out if there was a correlation between the loss of hair that had ensued and the extreme itchiness of my scalp. Well there was not a correlation, . . . unless the lice that have been living with me have been chewing my hair at the root causing it to fall out. Yes my friends, I have flashbacked to 7th grade when I was not allowed at sleepovers because there are critters living in my hair. Due to that lovely stroke of luck (my lice check) I had stayed in Dhaka so long that I was told it was too late in the evening for me to bus back (safety reasons) and I had to stay in Dhaka, AND, not for only one night, but it would be for the next night as well because there was a 'hartal' the next day in which travel is prohibited.

Hartals…these are somewhat of a frequent occurrence around here, well at least lately. This last one came about because some Islamist extremist party known as the JMB, one of the many political opposition parties, sent out suicide bombers to both Chittagong and Gazipur. These bombings resulted in deaths of police officials and court members and the Awami League (one of the main political parties) who called a hartal to show their anger about the JMB. So all of Bangladesh is supposed to shut down for the day. Transportation, shops, schools…even American-run banks in Dhaka are supposed to shut down business. If they are open then Awami league (or whoever called the hartal) extremists will break the windows, beat up the owners and such. This is a very important time for Bangladesh as the elections are coming within the next year and already there are problems. In the last election year there were 177 hartals….I do not look forward to such a reoccurrence. Now I am beginning to see why nothing gets done here….

So I was stuck in Dhaka, with little money and clothing along with other volunteers in the same situation. The office sent us to a hotel that had overbooked, so they took us to another hotel far off in the digs….literally, there were cockroaches in my bed, I have pictures. I would have rather slept outside. But such is life and I stayed in cockroach motel, adding to the bugs with my nasty head lice. Having lice here is not fun at all, well having it anywhere is no party, but here there is no hot water, or washing machines. I have begun to despise the directions rinse hair with warm water and wash all linens and clothes in washer and dryer on high heat. Hmmmm. So I boiled water and poured it onto my head, did the full treatment filling the bucket with critters, and later that night my host mom and the bua began picking at my head pulling out more bugs. YES…its totally like the discovery channel. I did another treatment the next morning…and the med office just sent me 3 more today, lice for life, my new mantra.

So aside from having the mental itchies, and JMB bombings, things are pretty swell. We are on high security alert because now bombs are being found all around the country. Three more volunteers have gone home, two because they were out of their site without notifying the office, and the third because her town was bombed. I can’t relate because I have not been put into that situation yet. As I spoke to dad about it this morning I am sure I have my own tolerance to such things, but for now my safety barometer is fine and I feel as though I am not in any danger. Some people want Washington to pull us out, which I feel is a bit much because we came here knowing it was an unstable, unsafe place and it would not be fair to the people we have befriended, the families we live with, and the students that count on us to just up and leave. As I have heard and I say, time over and again, live each day as though it’s your last. And so I have.

I have spent the past two days in amazingly different and rewarding places. The first I visited was a daycare, home for children who are mentally and physically challenged, I was welcomed in and next thing I new I was being pulled around by a boy named Boppi who got a kick out of filling a pail with dirt and drooling on me (another use for the orna). I stayed for the morning not really knowing what I had gotten myself into but felt as though I was doing something and having some kind of an impact, much better than sitting in my supervisor’s office for 5 hours listening to Bangla. It felt good just to be there and helping, I left after the art class, for which I will be supplying new crayons on my next visit as they only had markers that had dried up and pencils with no lead…not the best art utensils.

Yesterday I took a trip out to the Modhupur forest reserve, one of the last forests in Bangladesh. It is also home to the Mandi (Garo) tribal people. It was a beautiful amazing place, it was an hour bus ride then we climbed on the back of a "van" which is a piece of plywood pulled by a rickshaw and rode for an hour into the Pirgacha Mission. Here I met Father Hommrick who has lived in Bangladesh for 50 years amongst the Mandi tribal people. He was quite the humorous, educated priest and, in a couple of hours, I had learned so much that my head was swimming with questions and excitement. The Mandi people were so different from the regular Bangladeshi’s who are always staring, and causing harassment. They were such a peaceful wonderful type of person/tribe. I am very excited to go back and visit, and on my way out I SAW MONKEYS! It was great, as I have only seen livestock, and an elephant walking down the road one day, but the forest reserve is surrounded by enormous banana farms in which the monkeys live. It was great and made my day, along with everything else.

Finally, I felt that, for a day, I had been in the Bangladesh that I had imagined, the one that you all must still think of when you hear about this place. The reserve held the history of what this place once was, felt like, looked like, even smelled like. It was beautiful and peaceful, green, and alive. Now the government is trying to take it away as it has the rest of the country, to industrialize, and grow crops for export, to cut away the natural trees and replant those that are worthless for nothing but money. I returned to my crazy city on a bus packed with people, surrounded by rickshaws, and men, and animals already missing the serenity of Modhupur. It is so hard to find a place so peaceful, and is on the edge of being destroyed and then come to a place that it may become. Although I have my job from the government to "teach English" which is all anyone seems to want, even the people of the Pirgacha mission want me to return and teach English. I suppose it is my duty to give the people what they want, but I am beginning to feel that it is not what they need. There are so many other greater issues that should be tackled: health, sanitation, and agriculture seem to be fighting for the top of the list. There are so many NGO’s that I wonder sometimes what all of them are doing. Where are all of the monies and the microcredit loans going? I do not see it in my city, or around this area.

The hardest thing is coming to the realization that there is only so much I can do, but I sure as hell am not stopping at teaching English, (excuse my French). I have begun a project with Relief International and hope that it is the beginning of a working relationship where I can help with the growing issue of the forest as well as the Mandi people. Before I came I was told "prepared to be bored" "bring a lot of books" "hope you like naps"…well I guess times have changed, because I have found so many opportunities to help that I have not had time to think about boredom. Who knows . . . this could be just an extremely motivated point in my life, but I hope for my sake and the sake of Bangladesh that I keep on trucking, or rickshawing…whatever works.

Well, with that little mission statement said, as I had not expected it, as I don’t expect many things such as head lice, hartals, or monkeys. I will bid you all farewell, so long, abar lekha hobe (will write again). Be in touch, smile, laugh…oh yeah, and deck the halls with boughs of holly….forgot it’s December. Love you all, take care of yourselves and keep doing what makes you happy. Sienna

Here are a few photos. One is of a sunset in Gazipur, my first home..very beautiful much unlike my new City...they have their own pros.

The next is of a rickshaw roadblock,

and the third is of myself and a complete stranger who wanted a photo with an American and my autograph, I agreed as long as I could wear his friends leopard tupi.

I love you all and wish you a warm winter alike myself.

Peace, Sienna

11/28/05

"Thanks Giving Insurance"

It has been quite awhile since I have written and due to this I have all kinds of various tales to squeeze into this email. It has been a roller coaster of sorts. This past week 4 volunteers returned to America. Two were a married couple from our group who stated that they did not feel safe here, and another was a female that was sent home for medical reasons. The fourth hit closer to home because Mymensingh aided him in his decision. He lived in a smaller town outside of my city and came in one day to use the internet, he was going to contact my sitemate to get directions but was "befriended" by some Bangladeshi’s who would show him the way. They took him to a "bad area" and began to push him around and then pulled out a large knife, they took all of his belongings. He got on the next bus into Dhaka and planned his return to the US. This bothers me on so many levels, not that he left, but that the whole incident took place, and that it happened here. I have noticed that my guard is up almost all the time, it is important that I am aware of my surrounding at all times, and can only hope that I will not be victim to the same. However, I have added to my repertoire of awareness with a bit of self defense.

Last Friday my site mate and I were invited by two Japanese volunteers to join them in the park for ‘Japanese Boxing’. I was pretty psyched to learn a new martial art and biked over wondering if it was going to be like Judo, or Tai Chi….They (Shada and Joe) met us and pulled out the gloves. ‘Japanese Boxing’ is really just boxing with someone from Japan…it was pretty much punching the crap out of whoever was on the other side of you, nicely of course. It was a great time though, and a good source of stress relief. This is a stress relief I may be needing to practice more often as I am now going to my office daily to meet with my Supervisor.

These streets are much like no other. I would best explain them as if all the livestock in Vermont was set loose in NYC. And because of this I had my next encounter. I was attacked by a cow. Yup…a big ol’ Bangladesh guru (cow). I walked by it, as I do many cows in the streets and it reared it’s huge head and shoved its damn horn into my leg. I was so stunned and pained my first thought was to punch it, BUT cows are sacred to Hindu’s and that would have been culturally insensitive, so instead I went with my second choice, to keep walking, bite my bottom lip, hold back the tears, and buy a pack of cookies…stress eating is going to have a toll on me. But I got home and was welcomed with a box from Peace Corps with a package from home, with clothes and treats…I’m so lucky there are two sides to every coin.

So of course after the cow incident I decided the next day to take my bike to work. I hadn’t the previous day because the road to my office is really congested with traffic, and I was worried about accidents, as I had ran into a rickshaw a couple days before. Well,,, I should have stuck to my intuition because that morning I was hit by a motorcycle. Don’t worry though it was a lucky sideswipe and only my hand all across my knuckles got scraped up. Of course it happened right in the middle of town, and people all came to my aid including the police who saw…but I had all of the necessary bandages at home and insisted on riding (my Cherry Hero was still intact) home and take care of it myself. I rode home ringing my bell the whole way with a fury toward anyone in my path while blood dripped down my hand and the dirt from the street caked into the wounds, my family made a huge deal and even got granpa to come as I doused myself with peroxide and began to bandage it up in front of an audience of all. I can only laugh about it now and wonder how these new scars will add to the additional branding that the Peace Corps experience has given me…

Before I came to Bangadesh I received an optional insurance plan from peace corps, the family and I figured that this would be a good idea to cover the electronics I was bringing in case of cyclone or theft (both are on the coverage….they are equally possible). Now that I am here I have realized there is another insurance I should have taken out…for irreplaceable things…such as my skin and hair.

A couple weeks ago I lied in bed all night itching and scratching, I could feel the bug(s) biting then jumping, I attempted to chase it down with my flashlight but no luck. I was not alone in bed that night as the ‘poka’ bed bug attacked my arms and legs. I am now covered with lovely scars dotted up and down my arms and legs….skin insurance kotay (where). I have also tried to cut down on washing my hair. Not because it is clean…or even because it is finally cool at night and my morning shower is farrreeezing, but because I have been losing hair by the handfuls. I have heard it happens to most volunteers, due to stress, malaria medicine, and arsenic in the water here. There are a plethora of reasons, but I am not looking for reasons…I am looking for my damn hair. So I figured by washing it less I will brush it less and wont be filling the comb with my lovely brown locks….will you recognize a bald bespeckled girl in two years….?

OK so like a said, a roller coaster. Lucky for me roller coasters have up’s and down’s. Soooo, many of you asked me if I would beable to come home and visit America while I was here. I am not able to come home (really expensive) but I was able to visit America these past few days. Yupper, I found a piece of America in Dhaka. Through one of my trainers I was invited to stay with a family over Thanksgiving weekend. This is a normal thing for volunteers here, ex-patriot (Americans working in BD) families open their homes and hearts to us for a couple days while we come to Dhaka, this saves us from having to pay for a hotel, and eat out every meal, and gives us that homey feeling of family. I was stoked, I found their apartment and rang the doorbell to first meet Sara, she is 9 and a half and extremely mature…we hit it off quickly as her favorite shows are Friends and the Simpsons and I spent some of the weekend lounging and watching re runs, it was great. I stayed in Dillon’s room, he is 5 and is the cutest kid I have ever met. When he talks to you he will say "hellow do you know that there is a snake at my school, hellow why is there a hole in your water bottle" by the end of the weekend he had me questioning all kinds of things, and wanting to begin every sentence with "hellow". Robert is the father of the house, he is a returned peace corps volunteer (RPCV) who served in West Africa 20 years ago, Gambia I believe. He is now the country director for Family Health International (FHI). He is great and I spent my first night in Dhaka talking with him over glasses of wine and relaxing. His wife Anna is working as a consultant and is in Indonesia until December, I am looking forward to meeting her on my next visit. They have a cook and nanny who are great, and make the best food (apple pie) I have ever eaten.

I am so grateful that I got ‘adopted’ by this family as a pcv, they have had 2 other volunteers in the past who have now finished their service. At first I was nervous to be a guest in an American home as I have forgotten what it is like to have freedoms that I don’t have with my Bangladeshi families, such as preparing my own food, watching tv (in English), going out at night, wearing shorts, not having to sit in my room and wait to be called to dinner…And on top of their hospitality Robert had opened his home for Thanksgiving and held a dinner for other volunteers, I got to help hostess and it was a great day. I started the morning off by going with the family to the American Club for a Thanksgiving ceremony where Sara’s Girl Scout troop sang and various other patriotic songs were performed, followed by amazing pumpkin pie (this was at 10). Then we returned home and I helped cook an apple pie, and it was just great, for one day I was not vegetarian and loved the turkey and ate way way too much, around 6 pieces of pie …as the looming leave date to return to site (to eat Bangladeshi food again) was a day away. The last day in Dhaka Shelagh came in, she is also invited as a guest by this family which makes it even more perfect as I had not seen her since my Birthday and we spent the night catching up and laughing over the crazy experiences of the past month.

I was gleaming with joy by the end of this weekend, I got to talk to Dad, Nana, Mom, Phil, and Greg making me a bit homesick. But I was so lucky to have been in an ‘American’ home for Thanksgiving. I came away from this trip to Dhaka happy and refreshed and grateful. The idea of good karma, pay it forward, do unto others really has a ring of truth when I am treated so kindly here by so many strangers and am then able in return to do the same to people that I meet because I have a positive attitude and air. With this it doesn’t matter that my hair is falling out, and that I am covered with bug and motorcycle scars, and that I am gaining weight, because I am still smiling and looking forward to day ahead and all of the surprises it holds for me. I hope you all are doing the same, know that I love and miss you.

Happy Thanks Giving, giving thanks to you all, Sienna

11/13/05

"Birthday Celebrations and Bike Rides from The Other Side of the World"

What a long strange trip it’s been….I have returned to Mymensingh (aka my new home) which I have found that "Mymensingh is like a box of chocolates, you never know what’ch your gonna get" I say that only because my first impression, day, moment here I spent watching Forrest Gump, oh the lovely randomness of this country. So I have moved in with my new family they are great in so many different ways, younger my host mom (Runa) is more like a sister although she is 35 I believe, my new brother just turned 10 (Arno…although his real name is Nasif) and my host father (Rafiqal) who is not home usually is so well educated that we share great conversations…in which he talks about all that he knows and I listen and nod. The youngest of the bunch is Ajeda, she is the bua, who lives here because her parents are dead and she was orphaned, she is always smiling, and laughing and I just want to hug her, I believe she is 8 years old, I have asked when her Birthday is but nobody knows…..speaking of:

A little bit older and possibly wiser I have now become the age of 23. It was an interesting week of celebrating. I am lucky to have a great circle of friends and one of which Shelagh…who is also from VT, threw me a surprise party at her home when we were all still together in Gazipur, there were wanky decorations, lots of snacks, a cake which I hand fed a piece to everyone (tradition) as well as a red hat which I was to wear for the evening. My favorite gift was from Shelagh’s suiter..it was ‘Havoc’ spray deodorant for men, I opened the bag with a gleaming smile, and thanked him profusely for the present that I abrubtly regifted to my host brother Mukul. However the real day was here in Mymensingh, Shelagh came and stayed with me for a couple of days and we, along with my site mate and one of our Bangladeshi trainers who lives here, went to the park and had a picnic, then went on a boat journey with cake and snacks, and finally, all together enjoyed a party in my home with my new host brother…yes a bunch of lovely 10 year olds running around, hopped up on cake, mishti (the evisl-ist sugary syrupy ball of heartattack I will ever know) as well as the pop rocks I gave them from the states, it was good entertainment.

The day was filled with well wishes from all of you at home as well as new friends here, I was and am so very happy. I closed down the night with Shelagh and a bottle of wine she bought in Dhaka, as well as peanut butter from Greg I had saved and these awesome biscuits called ‘digestive’. They are better than they sound, they are covered in chocolate! We watched my Averi/college memory music video and I got to reminisce about the past years and where I am now…..what a long strange trip is right. I am just happy that I didn’t have to take the journey by rickshaw:

Ricksha….the main vehicle of Bangladesh, I think of it as a chariot pulled by bicycle and driven by the 'highly motivated' . . . not a lovely combination especially when each is equipped with a bell that would make a person lose their mind as they walk through the streets and hear nothing but bells, horns, whistles, cows, goats, people, and did I mention bells cause it is a constant. I had never liked ricksha’s and was lucky to live in a place before that I didn’t need to take them, but here is different, it is rickshaw city. When I first arrived I had to take one home, in which the walla (ricksha driver) overcharged me by over twice the amount, I was 'angry' and he would not leave. My next ride consisted of a walla that payed no attention to the road and as I was pointing a banana dokon out to Shelagh he rammed full speed into the back of another rickshaw and I was ejected into the road landing flat down . . . lucky enough I was not run over by any vehicle, animal, person and unbelievabley didn’t land in feces, . . . it was a God send. The third rickshaw ride was shared with Dad who was on the phone with me as we had a 20 minute ride to the park on my Bday. It was loud, crazy, dangerous, and painful as my butt is squished with the other passengers but in between metal bars, we were lucky that the over head hood wasn’t up because these things are build for Bangladeshis whose average height is 5’3…not to comfy for us…..SO third time is the charm and from there I was done with ricksha’s I BOUGHT A BICYCLE

Purchasing something here takes many things: patience, time, patience, time…..got the idea. My second visit to this particular bike shop, the oldest Hindu bike shop in all the city. I had decided on the most expensive bike, thinking it is the best, and knowing Peace Corps reimburses up to 3500 taka, with which this bike cost 3800. I didn’t mind pitching in for my own Bday gift. After two cups of tea, and 3 bikes…the first they prepared for me (putting on the reflectors, brakes, BELL, stickers….Flare) was bought by someone else while I was drinking tea, the second bike broke broke when I tried it, finally as they were preparing the third bike, the electricity went out and we sat in the dark as the mechanic tinkered by candle light. Six hours later I was riding my new Ranger Max HERO bike from India home with pride, its Cherry red and lovely……*)

My Cherry Hero has gone on his first ride already! Yesterday myself, my site mate (Andy) and my Uncle Liton rode to Mucktagacha the next town over, 20 kilo altogether to visit my aunt, eat the famous mishti and visit the old kings castle…it was quite disheveled, but there are so few historical things I have gotten to see it was a nice change from the same old routine. Of course today my 'arse' is killing me because the seat on that old Hero is brutal, it a heavy piece of metal, no gears just wheels, chain, and me…but I’m back on the road enjoying the control of knowing when I am going to get into accidents rather than letting the walla take over. Not wanting to worry you all, but riding a bike here is .. . . freakin crazy…nuff said.

Closing with some more Gump, "stupid is as stupid does" I suppose we all must be a lil’ stupid sometimes for our sanity, it’s what gets us by on days when I get to ring MY bell and chuckle to myself. I will be online more often and hope to correspond individually more, however I will attempt to continue these random collections of memories and thoughts in case anyone wants to delve into the mental journal of Sienna’s Mymensingh Memorandum….not to shabby.

Again I want to thank you all for making me feel as though I was right there with you for my Birthday, the phone calls, emails, and packages I may get someday are all SO MUCH appreciated, it is great to have family all over the world and as I sit in the park with new friends and talk on the phone with you from home I am able to share a piece of me that all of you know with the me that they know….all in all I am still me.

Peace, Sienna

11/06/05

"Now close your eyes, take a deep breath, and reach for the stars"

Subho Sokale....good morning, or Dupure (afternoon). It is the day before Eid (BD Christmas) and all through the house, every creature was stirring especially the mouse. The bazaar is full of people with care, in hopes to buy gifts before Eid day is here. If the moon is seen tonight, tomorow is the big day, Eid literally means happy and this shows every day. They people give and share with the poor, as beggars are fed with iftar food and more.

Eid also marks the end of fasting and the coming of the new season, (winter) however it is about 80 degrees today and I sweat profusely walking here. I was sitting on my roof this morning reading and the family bhua (servant) came up, she sat and talked with me. Her smile lights up the sky and her eyes are full of happiness although her story is sad, this is true for many bangladeshis that I have come across and encountered, there is not one like any other although, even in the shadows you can tell the difference.

This week is a week of limbo as I have returned to be with my first host family for Eid, as many other volunteers. This past weekend was quite a whirlwind. Just imagine 55 youthful volunteers to be, put in a hotel in a city....It was like we were back in High school. I went with my friend Shelagh and got haircuts for the event, we actually found a salon, where most people go to hair dokons, and it costs about 1 dollar, I couldnt’ entrust my hair to a man who has none of his own, there are just some things I won't sacrifice. We enjoyed great thai, and italian food, and found beautiful outfits for the swearing in ceremony. They cost 3 times the amount I would have liked to have spent but we were in dhaka and its before Eid. Much like shopping in NY city at Macy’s before Christmas, . . . packed with people! You just want to get in and out (mom you would have freaked).

The ceremony was at the Embassy, we were surrounded by supporters and news staff. There were various speeches and I sat there listening and thinking . . . . They called us individually to stand and be recognized, including a piece of information, a joke, or what not.

Before my name was called our trainer softened his voice . . . and said "now close your eyes, take a deep breath, and reach for the stars" . . . . this was my personal recognition and I loved it. It hit home as I have been teaching yoga to others here, and have had my positive optimist aura at all times. It wasn’t until the final speech that I was truly touched.

Following is a quote from my friend Sam’s speech, which he spoke in perfect bangla, I watched the faces of the bangladeshis soften and light up. It truly touched them and myself as well, as my eyes welled up with tears of happiness, excitement, fear and wonder...it is the beginning all over again.

"People all have places and environments that are familiar to them and where they feel safe. It would be easy for a people to continue to live in those places; however, that would be an extremely boring type of life. Fortunately the world is diverse, with wonderfully different people, religions, and cultures. What allows us to enjoy these differences is humanity. And so, we are here as humans, to teach and to learn from our fellow humans."...........

"When you look beyond a nation, into a person’s eyes, into a person’s soul, you can make friendships, which are eternal. So let us not be bound by nationalities or borders. In a world without borders, Bangladeshis’ and Americans are true neighbors, true partners in humanity. When you think about such a borderless world , you can see that we didn’t travel from America to Bangladesh but from our hearts to yours."

I will catch up more on life when I have reached my site, my new home and continue my work here. I hope you all had a lovely Halloween, I got to watch Thriller which was festive enough for me. I love you and wish you the best, I’ll be thinking of you all as the Holidays are beginning around the world.

Peace, Sienna

All about the eyes!

Hey there again, . . . some more pictures. . . this is me and some friends before our burlesque performance for the talent show, it was quite low key, we didn't even lift the veil, it was all about the eyes and good ol' hip action fun. I missed your calls this morning playing some volleyball trying to get sunburnt after you said I'm looking pale, we don't get outside much and are usually in a long dress, pants and the orna soooo yeah, let me say that showing ankles causes car accidents, gotta cover up those sexy calfs, scandalous, I'll write more later and can't wait to talk to you voice to voice,

This one was a barbecue with family and friends.

I love you all so much.

Sienna

HELLO ONE AND ALL!!!!!!

Here's what you all have been waiting for PICTURES OF SIENNA

in Bangladesh !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We thought from the letters she would be rounder *) . . . she looks SO happy . . . like an Angel . . . we cried rivers . . . ar still crying tears of joy!!!!!!

peace and love,

Sienna and Friends

10/06/05

(this e-mail was actually sent on 10-1 but Lajla and I were away . . . and I'm just catching up! Enjoy!!!)

SOCCER . . . SPIDERS . . . POETRY. . . and more

It's another rainy day here in the Desh...imagine that. :)

It has been quite a rainy week actually, but a good one as this morning was a new start to a new month. rabbit, rabit, rabbit This past week has been very busy with model school, language and all that jazz. A few nights ago I played in a soccer match that was ridiculous, the field was a rice pattie, it was underwater and just mud and stench, I couldn't believe we were playing in it. The Bangladeshi team were all barefoot and my sneakers are now putrid, I was wearing long cotton pants and they were so weighed down by the mud and water I couldn't move, we were slipping sliding and covered in Allah knows what by the end of the game...and we lost. A lesson learned, we will not play on that field again. We have a benefit game on Monday on a better field, that has grazing cows and goats but its not underwater. All the proceeds are going to an orphanage. This game is the day before the beginning of Ramzan, where all muslims do not eat or drink anything, including there own saliva all day while the sun is up....there will be lots of spitting and napping I think.

Soooo yesterday was our site placement, aka my new home for the next two years. I woke up so excited at 6 a.m .and I finished reading "The Time Travelers Wife" thank you so much to Peg and Ted and the whole crew back at the UNH Dean's office, it was a great story and I enjoyed time traveling every night as I read. After this I decided to clean my room and do all my laundry...as you have read this is quite a thrill, it would be a toss up with getting a root canal, very close call. Into the shower (a small concrete room with a squat toilet and critters close by) with all of my clothes. I begin the process of soaking, slapping, ringing and soaking as I see HIM..!! Two huge dark eyes, long hair, grizzly teeth, and 8 long legs...the Markrosha (spider). At first I stop and stare giving him the hairy eye back to say don't even dare come near me cause it is raining already so luck isn't on your side. He mosi's over by the toilet and I continue ringing out my orna just as I feel these long hairy legs grab unto my long somewhat hairy leg and begin to climb (AIIIIIHHHHHH) such a bloodcurling scream I let out, if the roof wasn't tin I would have shot right through it. I begin beating myself and the dreaded markrosha with my orna (so multipurpose)....well lets say it seemed to rain extra hard yesterday, it may or may not have been my fault. Of course my host mom and the booa (servant...Cookie) were knocking on the metal door as I began cracking up at myself and the situation, with clothes, water, buckets and soap everywhich way as I stood there ready with my soaked orna, waiting for the dreaded beast to rise from the dead....It was quite the shower.

So anywhooo, after that I headed off to the soccer field to find out my destiny, a huge map of Bangladesh was painted unto the field with flags posted all over, representing our new homes. We were called out one by one to Dhaka to read our placement.

It is cosmically exciting because the place I am going was the first place I heard of and saw in writing. When I was in Dhaka the first day I tried my bangla at the hotel desk to ask the key person where they are from they told me Mymensingh and then wrote it down for me....This is my new home. There are no volunteers living there now but Laura one of my trainers lived there before as her placement and really loved it, and oddly enough she had a dream about me being lost in a jungle and she helped me, coincidental. My site mate's name is Andy he is from Auburn Maine, because he is a TEFL which means he works in a school, I work in a youth center I do not know him well. He is an interesting character, red hair and beard, ear plugs and a nose ring through the middle part, he looks forward to skateboarding there and is a photographer...the cool thing is that he worked at Brantwood camp in Peterborough NH...what a small freaky world huh (for those of you who don't know, thats where I was born, where my dad lives, and a camp that my brother went to). I am really psyched cause most of my close friends are a couple hours away and we are all in the Dhaka region, cause some people are way far down south, 10 - 12 hours away. We are already talking about visits and dinner parties...lots of excitement.

MYMENSINGH...nice ring to it ey.. So from what I know because it is in the Lonely Planet book, thank you again Prof. Rosenfield. It is a bigger city.,... According to a recent census it has a population of 9,070,000 and an area of 9,668 km...OY baba. in which I hear there is peanut butter available. It is near the Mondhova Forest Reserve, which I will hope to bike to and is close to an Indigenous tribe called the Mandhi near the India border. There is also a Christian Mission I may be able to work with as well as many other options. I am happy to be in a bigger area with greater options, I may even beable to take Tae kwon do here, and I am really hoping to teach some pilates/yoga...although nothing compares to you lovely ladies at Top Notch, I am missing the Zen room every day that I try to roll like a ball on my concrete floor, now I too flop like a fish.

I have also found out that my new family consists of a mother, who is one of the best cooks in town, FINALLY I will learn how to cook, quite exciting. I know all of you will miss my peanut butter sandwich, and peace corps salad speciality but its time to branch out. My host father works for the government and is not often there. With this family I have one brother who is five years old. This will be very new for me, but as Peg Kirkpatrick reminded me as she just celebrated her son Will's first birthday, kids teach us to really appreciate all the small things in the world, so I look forward to many smiles and laughs and learning so much more with every day. Although this move won't be for another month I am looking forward to this new place. I can only hope my new brother roomate will make me laugh as much as those crazy wonderful UNH girls did, maybe if we put ski masks on and ride around on a ricksha (Kayla and Jill I wish you the best of move to Boston) I am so very psyched for the both of you, stay sketchy forever. Or maybe come June 12 we will eat everything in the house, because it is national mota (fat) day....Emmy you bring a tear to my eye and smile to my face.

I am sure that this weekly email cluster makes no sense as I sit down with a million things to write about and wanting to tell you all individually with all kinds of cleverness, laughter and sometimes tears. but its so much, so overwhelming I can only choose bits and pieces to share. I spent last night with friends being entertained with Bangla music and food. Always food. One of my friends went with his family to visit extended family, what they did was sit him in a chair, and surround him with food and left him there all day. Oy baba! This is how they have fun I think, food. It is odd how much people Don't do here. My host sister (older brothers wife) had been home with us this past month. She is 23 and does nothing. All day, naps and TV and eats...this is really it, she doesn't ever leave, and this is how it is for most all women once they are wed, which is quite young. One of my friends went to a wedding for a 14 year old girl and 18 year old boy, out of this world....well not exactly. Many of these young marriages are from arranged marriages which account for 80 % of all marriages here. I had a debate about this in my class and people are pretty split down the middle. It is very important to follow your parents wishes and if they arrange a marriage one must abide, this is based on everything from character to the darkness of skin, where the darker women have to pay a higher dowry to the man's family. After they are married the woman goes and lives with the man and his family and is to become a housewife, there are very very few working women, which is what I am here to show them. Of course I am not out to change the culture, but to provide a window to the world, options, possibilities, choices...things that every person has and may have forgotten. I truly believe our parents first wish for us after our health is our happiness...and I hope I can convey this to the people I come across and are interested in listening. This is the key thing I have come across, listening, how many times do YOU really listen to other people, not just hear them, ignore them, talk over them, block them out, but listen. Last night we were read poetry from Nazrul Islam a famous Bengali poet, as well as Tagore, these two men Loved their country they listened to the people, to the land, they truly loved this country a kind of passionate love that I think Americans have forgotten. A painful, deep heart throbbing care for the land, in such a way that only with their words they could show this love, and the people here listened to their words and repeat them and love them as they would love these men themselves...there is much weight to words that are written and spoken with passion and love, when we listen, we can be touched, and unknowingly we receive hope, this is a gift that can never be taken away, returned, stolen, it is everlasting. thank you for the inspiration, "you" that is here now, at this one moment in time, that is all that I really need, the you that is in the mirror every morning night, or the reflection in the deep red muddy puddle. thank you. As my father's wonderful friend Simone from Sicily has reminded me of truly understanding something, such as a place, a person, or time it must be experienced...I can connect this experience, a new place, person, food, with listening...So I hope you all are doing the same and will share them with me so that I can also live in your world, through the windows you give me.

I have recently gotten a letter from mom and babadar, with great photos. Of people, cake, our barn cat, and Sage and Peter's gorgeous little boys, they are now a fixture in my concrete case. Nana called this morning and wanted to know happy Birthday in bangla (khushi jonmodin). That's the news for now I have been loving reading emails from you all, Thank you thank you, I must go and teach my class now. (arrrrhhhhggghhh that was a big hug) I love you and miss you all, even those of you I don't know and hope to meet someday, hope you are all continuing your great journey's with high hopes, and low expectations, there is a lovely surprise in everything in front of you, the most work comes in taking the time to see, smell, taste, or sense it.

Peace,

Sienna

Here are some links to other volunteer's blogs:

http://mayanomad.blogspot.com

http://pcwanderlust.blogspot.com

http://www.zeke.com

Here are two poems from my Bangladesh students. There english is weak but they try hard and these two students have such great hearts. The first is Mouid Mahi, he identifies himself as a friend, a cook, a lover, and a volunteer:

"I said you I love you

But you do not

But you do

What do you do?

That you love me

I recognize it- you love me

But you never say me that you do

That's I'm very confused every time

You taught me - how to love

You taught me how to become a lover

That's why I love you

But I never forgive your love

That's why it's the unforgiven love"

The next is from a student nicknamed Shumi, she studies computers all day as this is her parents wish for her, however she wants to be a teacher:

"Home my sweet home

where we live with my family

though its tiny

It's the sources of my confidence, courage and energy

Home my sweet home

which you'll find rare, where my mother brings us up with love, affection, and care

Home my sweet"

09/24/05

Apni kamon achen, ami balo achhi.(Sienna wrote)

(i think it means 'here comes the sun, i see rainbows' . . . babadar's translation??? anybody know?)

Howdy ho....(that is what I just got 5 kids to parrot back at me) sometimes I have to use a bit of my humor to get me through these long hot sticky afternoons.

I just finished teaching my class on Identity...it is very challenging to inspire the people of this country to think outside of the box that they have been trained to live, think, and work in. Encouraging my students to think about their identities as "who they are" and what they like was quite a challenge....the last student to read his personal paragraph got it as he wrote how he was a believer, cook, volunteer. etc . . . it was great and its times like this that make the long hot day worthwhile because I had him thinking, deeper than "I am a student".

I woke up this morning to a heavy dark rain...it was storming all night I felt my concrete room shaking, the morning was so dark I had to eat by flashlight because there was no electricity. It was a day to stay in bed and read....oh if only. Yesterday was my "day off" with which I had used for my travel day.

Dhaka 'day of rest?'

I headed off to Dhaka the capital city last Thursday afternoon with my two friends Emily and Jaime. We hopped on a local bus where we had to smush our American butts into a tiny seat as we swerved through the streets of the city surrounded by people. When we reached our stop we jumped off into a torrential downpour, it was hard crazy rain, and we had one little umbrella and we were standing on a median in the middle of an intersection, laughing our bottoms off of course, finally a baby taxi, which is a small 3 wheeled doombuggy, pulled up and we squeezed in and pulled the tarp over us as we headed to our hotel. The place was so nice for what we know, . . . hot water and ac . . . I just wanted to stay there. But we left our bags and went to the grocery market in the city, WOW! they had peanut butter, but thanks to Mom's last package I held off, we bought a bunch of snacks, tea, avocadoes and went back to our room to have a picnic and watch TV until the other volunteers arrived. That night we went to a marine house party, which was a birthday party for 2 other volunteers, and for one night I forgot where I was!

There was music, a dj, foozeball, dancing, alcohol, diplomats....honestly I felt like I was in Europe again . . . and I recalled when I went to a party at the Italian ambassodors flat by the Trevi fountain . . . Now there were us peace corps volunteers in our sandals and bangladeshi ladies of the night in little dresses, . . . old diplomat men from the embassy, and other random guests. The best part was getting to talk to other volunteers who have been here for one and two years, to hear about where they live, and what they have done, love and don't love . . . I am very anxious to find out where my new home site will be, and will know this Friday. It was a long late night but worth it.

The next morning we really spoiled ourselves with pizza hut and gelato ice cream (maybe I was in Italy). The rest of the day was spent in book and music stores, I cannot wait to be at site and read, read, read, although I have no books now the PC book collection is nice from what I hear and will be doing a lot of this in the future. I pretty much spent the rest of my walking around money for this month but enjoyed those few comforts that I won't have for awhile, it was both refreshing and depressing in a way. This is because it is easy not to miss something you have not had and can not have, but now that I know those things are available and I cannot afford (or have) them it is a tease.

I had never imagined peace corps to be like this but it is a perfect picture of what Bangladesh is like, the richest of the rich and poorest of the poor and not much in between. It is hard to find this middle line because as an American my identity here would be with the rich, but because I am a volunteer my pay is closer to the poor and I am to live like the middle class, because I have to be safe and stay within the guidelines of peace corps, such as safe food, and home.

It is hard because I am not a tourist, I live here, on their wage and cannot afford foreigner (bideshi) prices. This will be a challenge until I can get to my new home and meet the people, and integrate into the community so that they know me, know I am living as they are and working as a teacher.

It is exciting to think of what it will be like but for now I am stuck in the training rut, I am missing my independence and after talking to Dad it is much like basic training in the military as he experienced it, a schedule that is not my own, routines, others rules and priorities, Food, and very very little time to do what I want. But as I walked to class today I looked around, I observed and saw the people. I have much to learn and experience and a lot of time so I can practice patience and flexibility as I must, each day is a new day, and if I can't do it today there is always tomorrow....this mentality has kept me sane.

I have been able to watch some news about the tragedies happening back in the states, it is very sad that our country is not pulling together as they should. Although I appreciate the packages I have noticed the cost of sending these items and feel that the cost is quite high. I would much rather that the money, foodstuffs are sent or used for people who need them in the states as I can live without peanut butter (although I have not tried). As I am here helping and doing what I can I hope to think that those of you who are home are doing the same for Americans who need the same amount of help. So please save your money on shipping and, send food, blankets, etc to the people who have lost their families, homes, lives to the tragedies of the flooding. Speaking of flooding I hear the thunder once again and should get home before I am caught in another downpour, I am hoping to lay and bed and read tonight as this is my favorite indulgence, and since I do have some peanut butter right now, there is no use in wasting it :)

I love you all and will continue experiencing, writing, laughing, crying, hoping, wishing, doing, seeing, hearing, speaking, and living: Do the same and write me please, your thoughts and wishes are always fresh air (the only that I get here)

bhalobash (love) Sienna

A Letter To Share!

Hello Nana,

It is a hot Monday afternoon here in Bangladesh, I have a class to teach in an hour and have been wanting to get a quick THANK YOU email out to you for the thoughtful package. I cannot believe the cost and don't want you paying that kind of money for this kind of thing, its crazy, your letters are gifts enough as well as your thoughts and prayers. At this point I am not sure what to do with the toys because my students range from ages 19 to 30...yes the youth I will be teaching is 18 to 35 quite the youngsters ey? But there are many many children and your gifts will not go unappreciated, by the way those peanut butter bars were great I still have a bag that I am savoring and the nuts didn't last long because I love a good crunch, thank you thank you.

As of now it is new subho barets a Muslim holiday where my family will be fasting all day and praying all night. I am feeling as though I am becoming muslim as I fully respect the culture here and feel naked when I am without my orna even though I am wearing long pants and a long top, I have become vegetarian because the meats scare me and of course alchohol is against the will of allah so I feel as though I am putting my body througha cleansing, no meat, alcohol, bad stuff you know,,,,.

I got a call this morning from Greg who starts his new job as an insurance salesman, he is very excited and hopes to save up and visit me. I think about you daily and have your quotes you sent me hanging on the wall, I am still healthy and happy and wake up in the morning looking forward to the day and adventures ahead.

Last night we had no electricity for 2 hours and I sat with my family practicing bangla and just thinking, it makes me think about how in the US we never are forced to stop our crazy schedule because there is no light, or because it is raining too hard to go anywhere, it is a nice change to allow the weather and other objects to control my life and let my patience wait it out. I love you, give Nicole a big hug and kiss for me and Uncle Jeff too,,,,lotsa love, Sienna

Torrential Downpour Reflections

'Hi. how are you? How ar U? What is your name? HI. HI. HI'

These are the greetings I constantly get, AKA the most common english that is known in this country. Therefore I do not answer back in English but use my bangla, to say 'hello, have a good day', it usually puts them in such surprise that I know even some bangla that they are too stunned to answer back, it has worked thus far. I am getting better with the language as I have been here for a month now. I had 3 conversations on the way here, as strangers ask me where I am going, what I am doing, and if I eat rice, reallly, . . . strangers ask that! I am beginning to get used to the stares, however, the clustering of people surrounding me is not yet as comforting. A few of us went to a 'cha stand' for tea and before we knew it about 30 bangladeshis stood around us staring, and talking about us. I don't know bangla well enough to understand what they are saying, and I think I like it like that as I pretend they are saying how much they like us.

I spoke to Dad this morning and have gotten a nice card from Brenda (Greg's mom) thank you. I told him about the flash monsoon that I got to experience this past Wednesday (budibar). I was on a scavenger hunt for my language class and all of a sudden the skies went dark and roared with rain. I was with Nicole a nice married volunteer (we have three married couples). And we stood in a dokon entranceway hoping it would let up. This is what everyone does, work stops and everyone stands and watches the rain and streets, this goes on for hours....therefore we as Americans decided Chollen(lets go). We hailed the next ricksha and splashed through the flooded street. The bicycle that pulled us turned into a boat as the muddy street turned into a river of sess, garbage, and little naked children that swam and floated by. We pulled into the main road, our 80 pound ricksha wallah pedaling us 'healthy' girls with all of his might, we were soaked through and still a good ride away from basha (home). We passed many soaked sheep, dripping goats, wet cows, soaked chickens..the regularly daily farm collection. the area where they are trying to build a sidewalk with bricks was washing thick red water into the warm brown muddy waters and I could see a burnt sienna color forming (i know I'm lame). I was dropped off first and bounded into my home through one last pond in front of the metal door way, my host mom and the servant (cookie) were in the kitchen and one look at me her eyes widened and she exclaimed "oy baba" I was of course laughing my head off as was cookie. I told her 'tike achhe" its ok, I like rain (brishti pocchondo kori) as though you need to learn all of these terms. I'll save you from the bangla training. It was a great moment, flash monsoon, it reminds me of all those days at home I wanted to play in the rain and couldn't justify it and now it comes naturally.

I have started to try exercising early in the morning this past week. I got up at 6:30 and met with Shelagh who is also from VT I love it we are both hard core. Put on my LONG PANTS- LONG DRESS AND SCARF, it was about 70 already and we then went to this old stadium were we jump a wall to get inside and we can then run laps in grass that is up to our shins, where prickles grab and hold to our pants and various animals are grazing, yeah this last about 20 minutes and we are soaked with sweat, covered in prickes, on the verge of dehydration, and being stared at by bangladeshi's who have jumped the wall and watch us while they brush their teeth. It's odd, they love brushing their teeth and in public, they do it for hours.

So for exercise it is not the best thing, to be a woman in this country is very hard. This fact is a whole another email/book. We are lucky that we are foreigners because we can get away with running, but we still must wear the shalwar kamiz and orna and do it in private or we would be showing great disrespect. We would not be spoken to by anyone in our village.

I have embraceded yoga, it is relaxing, private, and rejuvenating. And being mota/chubby or whatever you will is a sign of wealth and happiness here. A person will say you are looking fat...HAAH I know, nice huh, but this is a good thing. It means one can afford to eat. These things don't seem to matter to me anymore as they did. I don't have a mirror and could care less about these things, as I walk to class every morning and see 4 kids who live near to me sharing a piece of banana, it is so frustrating. There are many poor and needy and I don't know when and where to start, I guess being here is a start but I have a lot ahead of me. Next week we begin model school, and I will actually be teaching. More on that next time.

I love to get emails, mails, white light, a thought, anything. I miss you and love you all so much....a big hearty laugh and gleaming smile coming your way, after you read this enjoy some peanut butter and/or ice cream in my honor.

Love, rice, Peace, and dal, Sienna

Adventure into the countryside!Satkhira is famous for weaving, bamboo and cane work and potteries; other cottage industries include goldsmith, blacksmith, potteries, wood work, mat work, tailoring, date molasses and jute and cotton work.

Main exports Paddy, jute, wheat, betel leaf, shrimp, leather and jute goods.Main fruits Mango, black berry, jackfruit, banana, papaya, litchi, coconut, guava.Population 1843194; male 50.54%, female 49.46%; Muslim 78.08%; Hindu 21.45%, Christian 0.28%, Buddhist 0.01% and others 0.18%.Hello all;

Woww! oy baba. I have returned to Gazipur from my time away in Satkhira. It was quite a journey but thanks to the drammamine I was able to nap through many scary things. The buses here just fly!!! They drive on the other side of the road most of the time and just lay on the horn literrally the whole ride. We almost hit people a few times and come to screeching stops often. Then we have to take a ferry across one of the big rivers, so the buses pull on and stop as many beggars and food sellars get onto the bus. The whole way down and back the bus never comes to a complete stop, it just slows down and we have to run and jump on. As I returned to Dhaka I was to take a city bus but was lost in the crowd and was led to a local bus, which is the cheapest because they pack everyone in it, I had my huge camp bag and just held on for my life as the bangladeshi next to me asked me any questions he could in english.

My visit itself was great. I stayed with Jackie, a B6 volunteer who is 34 and will be finishing her service in 3 months. She does what I will be doing, teaching english in a government youth center. I attended both her classes of about 30, twenty-something Bangladeshi's. They were all very nice and after our last class they surrounded me with questions.

They ask EVERYTHING! How much is your camera? Are you marrried? What does your father do? How much does he make? Why aren't you married? Its all fair game, and I suppose I shall get used to it.

While in Satkhira Jackie and I met up with the 2 other volunteers, a trainee I traveled with and a male volunteer who works with kids. We all took a van (a piece of board pulled by a bicycle) to a nasta (tea and snack invite). The whole city was out because of a political rally, and we were in the center of it all, 4 b'deshis (foriegners) on a van. Then I saw quite the sight, 2 transvestites on a van behind us, they were quite beautiful I was surprised and think I told them they were beautiful, I'm not too sure. . .

The whole experience was great as I got to observe the true hospitality aka being fed a lot. I even baked as Jackie has a great apartment and all kinds of baking equipment we were able to pull off some great chili, and peanut noodles and I made banana bread, I'll be missing that as I will return home after this and be back in the baby chair being fed by my host mom.

I have turned vegetarian since my arrival and it has been much easier the meats are way too sketchy as well as the fish with full bones, one volunteer got a bone stuck in his throat. Well I am back in Gazipur and must trek home through the city with my big bag, I look forward to my cold bucket shower tonight.

I love and miss you all. Greg best of luck in NY, . . . Jilli live it up and good luck with Northeastern, . . . Mom, I am happy to hear that you're happy and the white light is much appreciated, . . . Dad, I had written a long lovely letter last friday but the current cut out and it dissappeared, know I was thinking of you all and current or not you are all in my thoughts...

LOTSSA LOVE, sienna

Just wanted to bring things up to date!

This is a sketchy summary of Sienna's flight schedule . . . I'm experiencing jet lag just trying to figure it out . . .

08/06/05 Saturday at 6:25 am . . . we know she left Boston for San Francisco

08/08/05 Monday after 2 days of orientation we know she was scheduled for a 10+1/2 hour flight to TOKYO.

Cookie, her SanFran connection, wrote: Hello Dar!This is cookie, the red head crazy one...I'm sorry I missed out on all the last minute festivities but I am living in San Francisco now!! Anyways, I saw Sienna off at the San Francisco airport and had her last american meal with her. She had a veggie omlet-no cheese with wheat toast and of course---ketchup. I had a turkey sandwhich and fries---of course ketchup for me too. It was great to see her before she left! Just wanted to let you know she got off safely from my end.08/09/05 Tuesday . . . after 10 and 1/2 hours she landed in TOKYO! . . . According to unreliable sources she was seen trying to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich with chopsticks during a one hour layover and then she once again was in the sky for another 7 hours on her way to Bangkok . . .08/09/05 Tuesday . . . she arrived in BANGKOK at approx. 11 PM 08/10/05 Wednesday at 7 AM she left Bangkok for the final 3 hour flight to DAHKA, Bangladesh!08/10/05 Wednesday at 10 AM . . .she arrived at . . . DAHKA, Bangladesh

She was at the Peace Corps Main Office for 2 days before relocating to some location outside of Dhaka where she is spending the next 3 months with her 'Host' family.

Some excerpts from her 1st e-mail: Hey all!! I am in a slowwww computer cluster surrounded by fellow volunteers all waiting to use the one of 4 computers as there are 60 of us wanting to get into contact with all of you back in the states. . . . Well this place is greeen, wet, hot, humid. I have 7 shots to look forward to tomorrow as well as beginning my daily malaria medication. I have been downing water due to the extreme jet lag I don't even know what day is today. SO apologizing for not making sense. Had my first official dinner, rice and bread, dal (lentil) and curried saffron amazing colors and tastes...ate it all with my hands. They don't use silverware in the desh. However, there is toilet paper, here at least so things are looking up. DHAKA: wow, we had a huge downpour today the streets are flooded, there is broken brick and rocks everywhere. People everywhere . . . its averaged to be 155 million people in Bangladesh. We bused out to the Peace Corps headquarters and met other volunteers had some tea and am now back and ready for b. e. d. This is real you guys. It's overwhelming right now, but in two days I meet my family for the next three months. There is peanut butter but its really expensive, too much for my allowance. Food really isn't a worry for me as we have been taken pretty good care of by the corps. I love and miss you all, be in touch, Dar's got my number here so call if you need me.....signing off from halfway around the world.Peace, Sienna

More Last Night East Coast Picts:

LOVE and PEACE

Everyone!!!!

WHOOPS!!! How did this get in here??????

. . . the last evening on the East Coast!

Worthy of note: Sienna and company were put up at the Logan Hilton, compliments of Mom and Phil, for final farewells. Sienna's last supper at the Hilton dining room featured shrimp, lobster, swordfish, Italian vino, Irish ale and for the guest of honor, peanut butter, jelly and banana on wheat (toasted, of course per special request of NanaLynn) and french fries with her own bottle of ketchup. (The attached photo corroborates this claim.)

We deserted the dining room sans dessert since carrot cake, Sienna's final food wish, was not on hand at the Hilton. Our taxi transported us to Rowe's Wharf just in time for the most spectacular sunset to paint Boston this summer. We enjoyed the music and company of up & coming band and new friends, Averi. Dancing, singing, laughter and tears accompanied the music. A Boston Herald photographer snapped dozens of photos of

Skip, Jill, Kayla and Sienna along the way. The boys of Averi took a public moment to wish Sienna an excellent journey. And darling Emily met us back at the docks with a shopping bag full of Zaftig's carrot cake for our girl.

ENJOY!!!

WE MISS U WHEREever U R!

Time stands still for no one . . .

. . . and so the day drew closer and Nana flew up

from Florida to spend time with her granddaughter,

Aunt (Sister) Agnes came up from Massachusetts,

Uncle Chris from Portsmouth . . . family and

friends called and visited and every last moment

was swallowed up by a fine balance of preparation

and 'quality time' lunches, dinners, pic-nics,

bike rides, cruises, hikes, walks along the beach,

sunsets on the lake, movies, yoga, pilates

. . . until Friday the 5 th when

the final packing and weigh in

was done and the family struck

out for Beantown and one final

Hurrah!