O-bama: The meaning of change to an American in Bangladesh

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The parallels between Kennedy and Obama have been drawn. And although I know nothing about what it was like to live in the Kennedy era of hope and absolute faith in the possibility of change, it is hard not to believe that we are witnessing something just as transforming. It’s true that for my generation, this is a first of monumental proportions. Not only did we elect the nation’s first black president; not only did we, as Barack said, disprove the popular assumption that we are an apathetic generation; but for the first time in our lives we know what it’s like to be part of a historic moment that the world celebrates.

Our generation has had no great moments of national achievement. We have not welcomed home triumphant war heroes the way that our grandparents may have; instead we have only known what it is like to watch a war drag on and take the lives of our neighbors and friends. We have nothing to equal the unifying drama of man’s first steps on the moon, and most of us were too young to understand the global significance of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Until last week, the defining global events of our generation told a rather miserable tale about the state of the world and America’s position in it: September 11th, two failed wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and an increasingly anti-American sentiment creeping across the map.

But that was last week. Barbara, the Deputy Country Director at Save the Children who works closely with our project, told Parendi and I that she hasn’t felt this much anticipation about the possibility of something good since she was a little girl. She remembers how she was filed into the auditorium of her elementary school to watch the young and inspirational president-elect Kennedy give his inaugural speech. She remembers how even at such a young age she was affected by his famous words: “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” Now she gets the same goose bumps when she listens to Obama, and she has rediscovered what it is like to have faith in a leader and the direction that our country is taking.

Twenty or forty or sixty years from now (if I am lucky enough to live as long as Obama’s Ann Nixon Cooper) I know that I, like Barbara, will be able to recount similar stories to my children and grandchildren. I will tell them about the day that I stood in my apartment in Dhaka, Bangladesh and wiped tears of joy from my face as I watched Barack Obama give his acceptance speech. I will tell them about how I (like Barbara did almost fifty years ago) had goose bumps just listening to his words, and how I instantly felt the internal change—the rising of some new and unfamiliar pride in what it means to be an American. How for the first time since I arrived in Bangladesh I had an overwhelming urge to be in America—to literally feel the landscape change.

For all of us who voted for Obama and his movement (a simple one—confirming the attainability of change), this is a wonderful time. But the change has been uniquely tangible to those of us who are abroad. Whether we like it or not there are times when we are viewed as representatives of our country—times when a roommate from France, for example, takes it upon herself to lecture you on the ugliness of American imperialism, or times when a villager from rural Bangladesh tells you (displaying her disgust for your country with a mouthful of betel nut and rotting red teeth) that America is godless. These are people who have grown tired of America’s agenda for the world, and who see little place for us—Americans—to go out and work in it (even if what we are trying to do is completely irrelevant to the geopolitics).

I have to admit that I am completely refreshed by the new meaning of my nationality, and I am no longer hesitant to answer the inevitable question: “kon desh?” Now when I tell people that I am American I practically expect them to congratulate me. Just the other day, when my rickshaw puller asked me which country I was from and I said America, he turned around and flashed a big grin: “O-bama.” The world is a long way from viewing America as a leader in peace and global cooperation, but when even the rickshaw pullers of Dhaka can recognize that change is in the air, I think it’s fair to say we’re headed in the right direction.

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Comments

[karen skelton]

Loved this
Libby, this is priceless. Thanks for sharing your view from Dhaka of this extraordinary moment in history, and thanks to you and your friends for helping us bring about this change. i'm sending this on to my sister, who married a turk and lives outside london, where she has often been ashamed to admit her Sacramento, California roots. Much love and keep writing, Karen

[gary]

amazing.
how cool is that? O-Bama. I love it. You should've been here, Lib. The impromptu celebrations around DC were really inspirational.

[Molly Elizabeth]

Well said, my dear.
Indeed, very well said. As I have told so many people at home, I now inevitably swell with pride whenever i hear the word "gringa." I, too, so wished i could have felt the energy in Berkeley or SanFran at the time of his win, but in the end I'll look back on this and say I was glad to have been representing my nation and people in another country; a country that long ago lost hope for us but has, since the win, gained it back.

[danita]

o-bama
agree, nicely said libby.