Hark the Rickshaw Bells Ring

Christmas here is incredibly different. I get up in my messy room, because I gave my maid a two week vacation. I put on my saree and fry up some pancakes. I try to remember that today is a special Christian Holiday and I need to be an example, because everyone will know I am Christian today. I wipe off the counter and put on my high high heels. I grab the garbage with one hand, throw my purse on my shoulder, and pick up the plate of pancakes with the other hand. Outside the door, I set the plate of pancakes down to lock my door. I shove the keys in my purse and away I go. "Oh Lord," I pray,"Please don't let the landlord come out and talk to me!! I can't stand her!" I am very aware that I am glittering with gold and jewels. I am wearing a red and gold saree. Usually wedding colors, but appropriate for Christmas. "Boro Din" the Bengali's call it. "Big Day" Don't ask me why. The guard sees me and gives me a big greasy smile. "Shubor Shokal!" He grins at me through green teeth, watching the folds of my saree sweep around my waist. "Good Morning". I huff at him and throw my bags of garbage at his feet. I am the picture of wealth. "Shubor Boro Din." I correct him. This is no ordinary morning. Have respect, servant. He opens the gates of the garage and lets me through. I realize that I, a rich, young, white girl, glittering with gold and stunning in red, wrapped in a Bengali saree, and holding a plate of strange looking flat bread with a huge bulky purse with strange mysterious contents...I must be a sight to see. As strange as an African villager in a loin cloth must look like walking down the road in America. The stares still get on my nerves. A lot! I walk through the first bunch of construction workers who all stop and stare. In my peripheral vision, I see all their heads turn together in unison as I walk through them. Like their noses were compass needles and I was the North. God give me patience! I feel the bug named irritation creep under my skin. I pick up the pace and start to count my steps to distract myself from the meows and kissing noises. A rickshaw approaches me. He has no passenger. As I hurry past him, his head turns, too. Jesus! Please just get me to Ruth's house! I have no patience today! At least I'm past the workers. I turn a corner and am approached by another Rickshaw walla. Same results. Same turning of the head. Same ignorant curiosity and lust. I hate him. I hear him "ding ding" his bicycle bell in very much the same way a driver would "hoot" his horn at a hot chick on the sidewalk. I don't return his prying stare. I follow him with my ears. I sigh a heavy hot breath and force my legs to stretch just a little farther. Urge them to pick up the pace just a little bit. This plate is getting heavy. I listen with agony as I here the gravel under the rickshaw crunch as he turned to make another pass. I gnash my teeth an take a deep breath. Don't say anything, Sandi, it'll just make things worse. Just go go go! I almost feel his breath moving the hairs on the top of my head as he peddles slowly past. His stupid face. He's turned around on his rickshaw so much now, he's facing backward. I meet his lude face with a defiant stare. Right in the eyes. Women should never do that. I was angry now. His smile melts away with one sweep of brief uncertainty. I attack. "What!" I scream and throw up my hands at him. "What are you looking at!!!" I march right up to him. I can't turn it into Bangla. I'm too mad. He doesn't understand. Uneducated a-hole! He stops his rickshaw. He laughs at my rage. "Jao!" I say to him, dismissing him as though he were a child. "Go!" He smiled a mean smile. He's made women mad before. Loads of times. He's used to it. Another rickshaw walla hears the noise and peddles up behind us to wedge his two cents in. I march down the road. I hate this plate of pancakes and how stupid they make me look. The wallas follow me close behind. I walk through another construction site. I'm ready to bite anyone who says anything to me. I swear I could just bite someone's finger off!! A middle aged man moves in to where we nearly touch as I pass. "You are lovely" he says in English. "F___ YOU!" I growl through tight jaws. Sorry God! I was so mad. I feel instantly guilty. Yes! I'm at Ruth's house. I step inside and take a deep breath. I smile at the guard. "Shubor Boro Din"! He takes no notice.
Later on in the day, after the gifts, the music, church, the gorgeous weather, and the food; I sit and wonder at Christ. I know that I could have easily done a better job this morning. I know I could have glorified Him better than I did. Yet, I felt justified in my actions (all accept for the f*** you at the end). I wonder at Christ, because He was never self centered. He never would have corrected someone whether it was Easter or some random Thursday. He would have greeted the construction workers with a kind smile and a respectable "Shubor Boro Din" Before they were able to say rude things to him. And if they did, I think he would have stopped and stood there, head held high (not running away) and said something intelligent. I don't know what. And if someone told him he looked nice, I bet He would have said, "Thank you." It makes me SO thankful for Him. That He did come to this world. God incarnate. So that we could finally have an example of how to act! Thank you, Lord. Forgive us when we stumble.

To be or not to be the Sandman!

So, I have just been endulging in some self centeredness. (Thanks for the idea, Tabs) I went to this site, downloaded a picture of myself to see which celebrities I look the most alike. And the lucky celebrity who looks the most like me......with a percentage of 67%.......(drum roll please)..... give it up for ....


Nicole Kidman!!

For real! Aren't you shocked?? I am!

Dirt for Dhaka

So Dhaka these days can basically be summed up in one word...

Congested

With the rainy season long gone, the streets of Dhaka fill with more and more pollution and dust. I find myself walking around holding my orna over my face for protection. Even though I leave my house fragrant of grapefruit and Ivory Shampoo, I'll return within any given amount of time reeking of automobile fumes. I'm on my second cold for the season. Last year, I had four before the rains came. I think of children in the streets...growing up with asthma. I think of the poor people with dust allergies. There is so much I take for granted.