Back to Dhaka

Power lines and traffic in my neighborhood

And I'm back...back to overcrowded streets and honking horns, back to overwhelming heat and humidity, back to power outages multiple times a day, back to rotting garbage seeping out of overflowing bins and heaped in piles on the street, back to air thickened with smog, back to cockroaches hiding behind shampoo bottles in my apartment, back to Dhaka.

Outside the vegetable market sits trash and livestock

Each and every time I leave Dhaka, it gets harder and harder to come back. Nepal was so serene and Dhaka is just chaos. But I only have 8 weeks left before I being the long journey home, and this time, I don't ever have to come back.

I've been thinking about this past year and all the things that I've learned from living in Dhaka. I've learned how to cross the street and navigate traffic, which my parents now understand is no easy task! I've learned to be assertive and stand up for myself, I've learned to kill a cockroach without screaming, I've learned how to change my lesson on the spot when the power goes out, I've learned that wearing a Salwar Kameez is actually the most comfortable thing to wear in the heat, I've learned that I actually like teaching big kids too.

I feel like after surviving Dhaka...I can conquer any task set before me if I set my mind to it.

Sunrise over the Annapurna Mountains in Nepal

A short story:
One of the ayas at the school came into my room at the end of the first day back from Spring break and asked, "Mother, Father, go?"
I said, "Yes, they are back home in Canada."
She asks, "You? Canada go?"
"Yes, in June, school finish, I go home to Canada"
"Return?"
"No, return no."
"Return no?!" She gives me the most disapproving look I have ever seen her give. Then proceeds to list the teachers that are also not returning who she will miss and I am now added to this list.
"Come to Canada!" I joke cheerfully.
"Taka nai" she says, making a money gesture with her hands.
"It's ok, you can come in my bag." I say, pointing to my backpack.
She laughs at this and says it's too small. I say, "No, I'll get a BORO bag" (Boro=big)
This is even more hilarious to her, and as another aya walks in she recounts our entire conversation to her and now they are both laughing and the new aya tells me in Bangla that I need 4 large bags because there are 4 ayas. I laugh too and nod emphatically.
And I can't help but think, how different our lives would be if we were born somewhere else in the world, and how lucky those of us are, who are born in Canada and have the resources to leave and return as we please.

Showing the ayas how to take a "selfie"