Marriage

Yesterday, Gita got married. Gita is one of our WMF staff members and one of the founding members of Sari Bari. It was an exciting day for Gita because she is marrying a good man, which is sometimes difficult to find. Both she and her new husband work within the same area: she works for Sari Bari and he works for another organization doing similar work to Sari Bari. Quite incredible.

It was funny that when the ceremony because, Gita was not smiling--she actually looked very unhappy. At first I thought something was wrong; the no-smiling Gita is not normal. But as the ceremony progressed, Beth informed me that in Bengali weddings, the girls are not supposed to smile. And actually, if it's an arranged marriage and you really don't know the man you are marrying, you probably wouldn't smile. Gita, however, did start cracking some smiles, and she does know her husband.

And yes, it was semi-arranged by Sarah, Beth, Upendra and Radha. Funny.

It was a long day, but it was a good day. I loved seeing our Sari Bari ladies at the wedding, and they gave me such praises about my sari; however, they also critiqued everything about how I was dressed, but, as Sarah said, they only do it because they love me. And I love them. I can't really describe what seeing them at the wedding, all dressed up and smiling did to my heart. It was wonderful. They are so beautiful and precious.

It was my first Indian wedding and it was my first time wearing a sari. Dang, that sari with all the sequins was uncomfortable. It's a bit blingy-er than my normal style, but what won't we do for the sake of beauty. Something about a sari does make a girl feel beautiful.

The loss of a friend

On Thursday Melissa and I received the news that a dear friend of ours from Bangladesh, Kati, was sick. On Monday we received the news that she died.

It's hard to process this news; it all happened so quickly. In a little over a week, Melissa and I were going to go to Bangladesh to celebrate Kati and Musa's 16th wedding anniversary. We were going to stay with them. I took it for granted that even if we weren't able to make it, Kati and Musa's party was going to happen--that Kati would be there, would always be there.

Oh, how my heart grieves. Please pray for Musa through this time.

Fear-inspiring

I am not usually a person who strikes fear in the hearts of people. I tend to be a nice person who smiles easily. Today, however, I struck fear in the hearts of many . . .

Our newest Sari Bari unit is in a village about an hour by train outside of K-town in a village called Canning. Those of us who work in the city take turns going out to Canning to visit the girls out there, to get to know them, to let them get to know us. It's actually a pretty great trip because when we go, we are going to where it is green. Oh, beautiful green.

As per Sari Bari norm, whenever a group of girls finishes training (3 to 4 months duration), we begin to set them up for medical care. Part of the medical care is tetanus shots. One part of my job is to administer those shots. Since our Canning girls are all new and just finished training, none of them have had the shots before, so they didn't know that my coming foreshadowed pain.

Ugh. I don't like being known only as the one who gives shots: the ladies in the Gach unit come up to me and act like they are going to give me a shot. Kind endearing.

When I first got to Canning this morning, I asked Gita if anyone knew what was coming, and she said no, but as the morning wore on, rumors started. I think they all assumed that a doctor was going to come (which is the norm here) to administer the shots, so when a man came to see Upendra, everyone began talked and yelping when Upendra left the room with him. They were saying, "That's the doctor. He's going to give us the injections!" Upendra overheard their nervous exclamations and stuck his head in the room, "No, he's not a doctor." Then he points at me, "Sheila will give the injections." I think he smirked as he said this.

All the girls looked at me like they were betrayed. They made all kinds of noise and fuss. I just laughed sheepishly at their reactions. When the shots started, some of the girls were brave, but I definitely had one who was sobbing and another who was completely terrified. It's kinda funny . . .

On the way home from Canning, two things stuck out to me: 1. I saw a beautiful story unfolding: a young man brought his girl to the train and stood outside until the train took off. His smile was what got me; his smile for her was beautiful. I had many questions for them because I assume they are not married (she was not wearing the normal red Sundor in her hair that signifies a Hindu woman is married . . . she could have been Muslim or Christian) so I wonder what their story is. One thing I did know was that they were in love. 2. When we got in our auto to get from the train station to the metro, a guy who was very high sat in front with the driver. At one point he draped his arm over the back of the seat and his hand touched my knee. My first reaction (because it's happened before) is to become angry. However, this guy was definitely not putting any moves on me--he was out of it. I actually got to the point where I was afraid he was going to fall out of the auto, so I had my hands ready to grab his arm should that happen.

All in a day . . .

Oh, this darn language

Well, I have no good news to share about my mad language-learning abilities. I am not any more confident or brave. I have had no stellar conversations.

However, yesterday Melissa and I began a new class with our language tutor here. We in K-town have been going to Protima Didi since the beginning of the field, so she knows our organization well. She's an amazing lady who has too much to do so decided to consolidate her evening language students to a three-night-a-week class. It's a lot to process and it gets out too late in the evening, but our first class yesterday was really fun.

There was one moment that made me feel so much more at ease. I was trying to speak, albeit haltingly, and I asked if I said it right--kind of shyly as per my norm. The teacher, a new teacher to us, said to me, Don't worry about if you say it right. Say it and I will correct you later. In essence, I heard him say, Make mistakes and make them boldly. Whew. I will try.

And then today at Sari Bari I was working hard sorting saris (which caused endless sneezing), and I did a darn good job organizing them by color (apparently, Upendra later told Beth that he will hire me as his assistant). After sorting saris, I was given the task of cutting bag handles, which, I found out, is not easy task. The scissors are huge, but it is tough material. Nazir, our master tailor, saw me struggling, came over to move me along quicker (at which point I thought he was giving up on me), and then tried to show me how to do it better. He was very patient, but I tried telling him that his hand is stronger. He said it wasn't not true. The entire time I was cutting bag handles, I was laughing with Nazir at myself. I think he was shaking his head at the bumbling white girl, but it was funny. Not a whole lot of language was going on, but a lot of good communication was. Laughing brings people together. And it's good medicine.