Dhaka slums

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Blogger Bec

I apologise for the lack of photos which would no doubt give a much better idea of what I have just seen than my words but as it was my first visit, I didn't know the cultural norms and felt it would be insensitive to photograph until I understood the area better.

In order to best understand how I can be of best use to the less fortunate in Dhaka, I needed to see first hand what the situation was like for the poorest of the poor.
I have it in my head that I want o set up a fairly major literacy project but my more knowledgeable and experienced friend very politely pointed out whilst my idea is good, the need has to be there.
Need? Of course there’s a bloody need! The literacy rate is sitting at under 50%!!(MISSING)

Once I got off my ignorant soap box and actually listened to what he had to say, I began to understand the enormity of what it takes to make a change here. You are battling not only huge corruption but also cultural norms that don’t see the need to educate women. Added to this is the utter and complete loss of hope for those people who are living hand to mouth - they absolutely believe that no amount of education is going to make a difference to their life so they themselves don’t bother and they don’t encourage or support their children to do so either. I've been told you can’t actually start at the base level, you have to hit the “middle class”, the people who actually have a chance of ‘making it’. I didn't believe it, surely the poorest are ones who need literacy the most!

After today, I understand. These people cannot feed themselves, they have basically no homes and absolutely no hope of a job. My ideological and ever optimistic heart begs to differ but how can you help turn someone’s life around if they truly believe, in the deepest part of their souls, that nothing they do will change God’s will?

But back to my ever optimistic and ideological heart - I’m going to bloody well try and make a difference and there are so many people here (mostly expats if I’m brutally honest) that are already doing so much. Two of these, Francois and Chye, teach at our school. They sponsor two local children and do a million other selfless things like teach English at one of the slum schools in the suburb where our school is.

I wanted to see for myself what the slum schools were like, to see if, like Francois has said, there really was no point in setting up a library project.

Francois took me to the slums this morning and we spent an hour wandering the little alleys and across flooded pathways, dodging rickshaws piled high with goods and ever so slowly accumulating a little fan club.
Smiles and “hello boss” drifted on the air and everyone we passed had a smile or a wave for us. Production stopped, commerce paused, eyes were dragged away from the communal TV. Children giggled in delight at our every word, dogs chased their tails and various fowl played chicken across our path.

Shockingly, I found levels of mind numbing poverty.

The just plain dirt poor (who have full time jobs, a high school education live and earn about 5000Tk ($80AUD) a month) live in the section closest to the road. About 6 families share one small, unlit, non flushing toilet but all their houses have roofs, solid and brightly painted concrete walls, mosquito mesh on most windows. They have basic furniture and take pride in displaying what artwork and handicrafts they make or have been given. There is a usually at least one tap of running water in their house but they have no access to clean water unless they buy it like we (the expats and rich Bangladeshis) do. Their children are clothed and attend school for at least half a day 5 days a week. Many speak rudimentary to good English which has allowed them to have better paid jobs. (Yes, 5000TK is a good paying job).

The next level down the poverty scale are those extremely poor families who live in similar style houses but they have little furniture and no running water. Their children also attend local, well established but sorely under-funded schools, and their tuition and uniforms are usually subsidised by UNICEF, BRAC or another NGO.

The final rung on the ladder is simply beyond any definition of acceptable human living imaginable (except homelessness). In a space no bigger than 10 metres square, lived perhaps 100 people whose homes consist of 3 walls and a roof made from cardboard boxes, scraps of rubbish, straw, old banners and signs, recycled drinking containers or bamboo. The only access to water they have is the stagnant pools leftover from the floods, there is no furniture, and their children usually run naked, their little malnourished tummies protruding like a 9 month along pregnant woman. The women are incredibly young but are made into crones by the harsh reality of their day to day existence and the children are occasionally educated in the “informal” schooling that is set up by UNICEF or BRAC. Most families don’t see the point in sending the kids to school so it is only the novelty of foreigners that brings many of the kids to the school building.

I’d really like to say that the experience moved me to my soul, that tears flowed down my face and I felt ashamed of my white, upper class upbringing but I can’t. The spirit crushing poverty flowed around and over me, the stench of thousands of people shoved together blew in and out of my nose and the sight of toothless, starving families was met by my glazed eyes.
It was simply incomprehensible.

I’ve seen African rural poverty, I’ve seen homeless, drugged and drunk Australians, I’ve had glimpses of the poor and disabled the Chinese try to hide. But nothing like this. I just can’t compute it yet.

We never did find the school Francois was after but we did find the BRAC school. It was closed for the day and there were no teachers around but we got a sneak peek into the classrooms. No fan, no light, no books, no materials, just long bench seats with joined desks and a single blackboard. All the materials that have been donated by charities and generous people are under lock and key, novelties to be bought out only when the white people come. Otherwise the children might BREAK THEM.

OK, I get it. Come in with your grand ideas and hopes but watch them get crushed if you aren’t there to police it.

I will not give up, I WILL find a way to make change, make a difference but it looks like I need to start in a new direction.

There’s no shortage of people who care here and that is where I will start. Wish me luck!

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Comments

[Tom]

Good luck!
Bec, You're an inspiration to us all. Even if you only help one person, you've made a difference.