Eid Mubarak

Eid greetings from Bangladesh. Tomorrow is the second most important - or perhaps it is just the second most celebrated - Muslim festival of the year; Qurbani Eid. The day is celebrated in commemoration of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son, and that God sent a ram in the son's place.

In the market just outside LAMB all are in a 'festive mood' the papers will say tomorrow. And it is true. It is evident in the bustle around LAMB that people are happy. Families are together again and that is good.

Tomorrow the celebration will including sacrificing a goat or a cow. For those who can't afford one there is no condemnation. You can share up to seven people to one animal, and for those who are really poor there is the share that comes from the tradition that the sacrifice is divided into three parts; one for the host, one for neighbours and friends and the last one for the poor.

This year Qurbani Eid falls in the week after final exams in schools all over the country. The school year here is from January to December. So many will be relieved that the exams are over and, like Abraham, that they passed the test. For the students there is the hope that they will reach the next level. Be 'promoted' from grade four to grade five and more tests. For Abraham that he will be promoted to the ranks of the righteous.

The man in the middle here is selling perfume; it is special perfume produced without alcohol. He explained to me that it is sold only on this night and that we need to smell better on Eid. As a true Bangladeshi, hospitable to the core, this was followed to an invitation for tomorrow.

I find myself praising God that the Test is complete, that we celebrate the Substitute who took our place. The righteous Abraham is worth remembering and it is worth modelling our lives after his obedience. But there is so much evil in me, in us, in the world that without someone to take our place there would just be another test after this one and promotion from grade five to six next year or worse still; failure.

Praise God this is one exam we don't have to pass.

So many people belonging at LAMB School

It is awesome to think of all the people who are a part of LAMB School, and I don't mean just the teachers and students. At a party on Monday, there were at least three people missing - not counting four coming in December. This means that with spouses and children we are more than forty people at LAMB School.
I give thanks for that, and for each one of the man who contribute to the school.

Two more Christmas Cards

Some of the boys, with a lot of help from some of the girls, managed to finish the last two Christmas cards today. Have a look at the cards and send an email to christian.lamb 'at' gmail.com if you want to buy some. Don't forget your mailing address.






Bangla B








English G

In business

I didn't ever think I would be doing this, but the photo you see here is of a post card we hope to produce and sell to raise funds for the teen group at our local church. The cards say 'Shubho Borodin' or 'Merry Christmas 2008'.
The postcard was designed by the girls in the teen group - the boys weren't as efficient, but if they get one ready, it will be added later.
We would like to sell them for US$ 1.50 for the first and US$ 0.25 for each additional copy. This include postage anywhere in the world. There isn't really any good way of paying for this, so if you know how to do that, please help out.
If you don't and still want a Christmas card, send an email with your mailing details to christian.lamb 'at' gmail.com and you might just get a card anyway. (You will have to change the 'at' to an '@'.)

Seize the moment

As I woke up to the second to the last ‘normal’ day of the school year and started with a moan about the fact that all the time I got between a group of visitors who spent four days at LAMB and the painters whom we hope will paint the new building and scrape all walls and ceilings in the old before also painting them was a literal twenty minutes while I was teaching a science class it dawned on me that we are tremendously blessed at LAMB School.
The visitors were an inspiration and they came because they support the work we do through prayer and giving.
The painters haven’t started – it was the ‘mistri’ (the foreman) who came to talk about starting on Saturday and we have room to move around, partly because of good colleagues elsewhere at the project.
At the school we seem on top of the exams that will start on Sunday. There are new teachers coming next year, and two have started even before the ones they replace have left.
So, on this Wednesday morning my gratitude goes to God who is faithful. I might moan again before the day is out, but at least I have captured this moment.

Treats of Bangladesh

Some of the treats available in Bangladesh can be seen if you click on the picture to the right of this article. Have a treat.

A branch that won't break

That is what a friend of Troy's told him today. I don't know the friends name and it doesn't matter since Troy isn't really called Troy either. Troy is no longer a new believer, and it is encouraging to hear him tell about how people come closer to God because of him.
Today's friend asked Troy to pray for him. When Troy asked what for and heard that it was that a childhood sweetheart would divorce her husband so that the friend could marry her he said he couldn't.
Troy has obviously learned a very important lesson about God. While God is faithful and hears our prayers, he won't give us all the things we ask for; especially not when getting them would break His own commandments.
The friend was shocked - he wanted it so - and how could Troy know that that was not going to be within God's plan.
That was the question Troy had for me; but he ventured to tell me his own story of a dream about two broken branches in a tree that he was climbing. The dream which had repeated itself ended with a third that held his weight and arrested his fall.
The first branch was when Troy had tried to save his family by looking for a job in the capital and returned more broke than when he left. The second was when he came back home and after a few weeks was arrested for fourteen hours because some police officer needed to arrest someone and found him handy.
He told of the peace he had felt as he remembered his dream and knew that the next branch would hold.
When, after this his pastor told Troy that God must love him when he let him go through so much trouble, he knew that he wanted to be baptised.
Some time has passed since then and the question is now; how does Troy and the rest of us know when to get of the branch we are sitting on?

The poor at my door - what happened

The truth is I don't know were this is going. As with so much 'good' we just don't know whether it will bring anything GOOD. I just found out that Thomas never went back to work at the brick kiln. I hope he and his family still eat, and that he has found someone to work for who will treat him well.
The harvest season has begun in our area and there should be work for all so that none will have to go hungry.

Daily Poverty Busters

I have added a link to a new blog with ideas for how to make a difference for the poor.
The blog is a result of the tension between realities and the standards of Isaiah 58. It is an attempt at turning thoughts of despair and frustration into something anybody can do.
It is not an intellectual site and all the ideas must be measured and tried against common sense and the reality in which you live. They must be tested against the greatest commandment to love the Lord your God and your neighbour as yourself.

The poor at my door

This evening Thomas* came to my door again AGAIN. It has been a while since he was here so I guess I shouldn’t be too upset but I certainly wasn’t too happy. What can I do for him? Is he lying again? What difference does it make? whether I help and whether he is lying?

I listened to what he said – that he had worked for thirty days, but that his manager had told him not to come back for seven days. Now, three days further down the road the family went without food again AGAIN. Why his father wasn’t taking part in the governments 100-days work programme that all the poor are part of – he was drinking. Why he didn’t have money after three days without work – they only paid sixty taka a day. Why he had been asked to not come back to the brick field where he had worked – don’t know.

I know the owner so without thinking much about it I called him. I didn’t get to say anything except that Thomas was in my living room. The owner asked me to give Thomas the phone and after a few minutes of talking to Thomas, the owner told me that Thomas had not been turning up for work, and when he had it was often late – but he could come back tomorrow.

Why he hadn’t been going every day – because it was hard work. Why he hadn’t gone on time – it was early in the morning or not enough time to eat.

There is no doubt that the manager is less than pleasant to work for, that they treat Thomas like a dog and that he probably can’t do things well enough for them, but the owner of the kiln has given other children the chance before and helped them learn to drive a tractor, helped them get skills that would help them get good work elsewhere. I am sure the owner isn’t easy to work for either.

I asked Thomas whether he wanted to become like his dad or take the abuse he gets in order to make sure he doesn’t. I also ask him to make sure he was at work by seven tomorrow and every day from now on, since I had risked my prestige by asking that he get his job back.

I didn’t tell him I was as surprised as he that that is what the brick kiln owner did when all I wanted to know was whether Thomas was telling the truth when he said he had been asked to not come back for seven days.

I wish I could choose which poor people come to my door; if that had been the way it worked perhaps Thomas would have had the choice not to be one.

*(Thomas’ real name isn’t that; he is no more than 15 years old.)

How would you like your ants

Life is full of little problems and sometimes they come in great numbers. A little over a week ago, or perhaps it was two, I got to my dining table and found that there were ants in the muesli I had been saving for special occasions. I shook the bag – that usually disturbs them enough to make them scramble for the little hole through which they had come. The only problem with this was that it also disturbed the content of the bag, seriously hampering any evacuation attempts they made. I ended up pouring the whole thing into a flat plastic container with a lid and when I couldn’t tease more ants out I folded a piece of soft tissue paper, put it in a corner of the container, put the lid on and left it in the fridge a couple of hours before I took the tissue paper and the few assembled ants out. I repeated the treatment once and think I got them all.

The ants, however, had been so encouraged by the supply of food that they were not deterred by the slight setback of the muesli and immediately went into the toaster.

Toasted ants are probably full of good protein, but I still prefer my peanut-butter-chocolate-spread-and-banana sandwich to be without ants so I cleaned it as best I could. It has a removable tray at the bottom which needed to have every crumb removed before the toaster was safe. Keeping a toaster free of crumbs is not easy so I ended up heating it up and then putting it on top of my fridge – the ants haven’t found it yet.

One should think that that my peanut-butter-chocolate-spread-and-banana sandwich would be safe now, but things aren’t that easy.

The bread box had a little hole in the corner of the lid and before long the bread was crawling in ants. Last time this happened my ayah baked the bread which made the ants crawl as far away, the only way they could; into the bread before they died from the heat. That is how I know I don’t like them in my peanut-butter-chocolate-spread-and-banana sandwich. I had learned my lesson and simply gently brushed the ants off into the sink and decided that from now on my bread would have to be in the fridge, even if that does make it hard.

There was now nothing left on my dining table that didn’t have a screw on lid on it – except for the powdered milk so that is where they went. I spent a good hour rescuing the poor ants from the milk powder. As soon as I tried to scope one out the surface would disappear under four others. I tried to keep track of the problem, but ended up minutely going through the whole container until every little wriggling black spot had been removed. Finally I had learned my lesson and there were no more ants on my dining table – except for when I was eating and they would scamper down from the ceiling to see if they could eat the toast out of my hands.

Then came the kitchen; they found a way into a plastic container and into a packet of noodles. Fortunately we could wash them right of the noodles before Alan, a shorttermer, cooked a delicious Chinese meal for me. I checked every other container on the shelf in my kitchen. I think the ants were watching. I didn’t find any more ants so I heaved a sigh of relief right until I pulled out the wooden ladle which was crawling in ants. They were eating the end of it. I silently blamed Alan for not having cleaned it. It is kind of nice to be able to blame someone, even when I have to be humble enough to not do it to his face. I scrubbed the ladle with soap and put it back in the tray. It was crawling in ants almost instantaneously again and it probably wasn’t Alan who washed it in the first place anyway.

I said the ants were watching for the next day they were in one of the containers I had checked. They were eating dry spaghetti. There were no ants in the bag when I checked the day before, but they had managed to find a weak point in the metal lid on my spaghetti tin, pried it open and gone straight through the plastic bag to munch on my spaghetti.

These ants are persistent and hard working. I don’t know what they will be in when I get home today. I just wonder if the ants pray as much as I do about life's problems and I pledge to be as diligent as they in solving the problems that I face.

Picture Quiz

There's a picture quiz if you click on the map in the right hand side of this page. You can write your answers by commenting under each picture. Correct answers will be posted later.

Simple giving

I always find giving difficult; there are the beggars whom I might give a few taka because it puts a quick end to the encounter, but I know that I have given them no lasting help; there are the friends who need a little money to get out of a sticky situation, and for whom I will go from being a friend to a benefactor if I help; and there are the habitual beggars who think it is always worth a try to see if they can get something and so ask.
On Tuesday I had the privilege of being able to help without any of these issues. A family of four; Ratan aged six in a white 'dhoti' with his sisters Ratna in class five and Shampa who was barely two years old and finally their mother whose name and age I don't know.
Ratan was the one doing the begging, wearing just a white cloth around his waist and a white thread over his right shoulder it wasn't difficult to see that this was a family in mourning - and being that he was the only male, and thereby the most senior member of the family - it was he who stated the facts; They were begging for food and money because his father had died seven days ago.
They were happy to share their names and what class they were in at school, and also that they were from Kalibari not too far from LAMB. The father had suddenly died - my guess would be a heart attack, but I don't think they know. I even got a smile from Shampa who was obvious too little to understand, and from Ratan who with a hole where his two front teeth were missing was clearly too young for the responsibility that had now become his let alone to comprehend it.
It was easy and a joy to be able to give - not that they will have been greatly helped - but they were obviously in a situation where they needed help, they weren't abusing a relationship to get something they didn't deserve and this wasn't a bad habit.
Please take a minute to pray for this family.

Praise and Worship

The seminar in Lalmonirhat was a blast of an event. The participants enjoyed the music. The teaching was good and the programme well organised. The most encouraging thing for me was the number of dedicated Christians with a commitment to trusting in God. There was a Christian TV-producer and a lady who, in-spite of physical challenges (She lost her sight when graduating from high school.) has a job and sings on national radio. These role models helped all feel proud of being Christians and gave a sense that Christians can do well in Bangladesh. The most important part of their message, I think, was that they both praise God for being with them in the challenges that life brings – rather than pray that he would take them out of the difficult situations they get in. The blind lady did not ask that we pray for her to get her sight – though there were several people whose ministry is to pray for the sick. Her testimony was about a God who was with her.

I enjoyed touring the city during breaks with Liton and Elsie. (Friends at LAMB) Liton is from Lalmonirhat. In the past Liton has always talked about how everybody would call to him if he walked down the streets of Lalmonirhat, and invite him to come visit. He gave the impression that he was a bit of a celebrity in his home town. I never really took him seriously. As we toured the city together people called to him, invited him to come visit. He might not be a film star or a sports idol but there is no doubt that he is at least as popular as he said. We managed to visit eight different friends in less than three hours and there were many who were left out.

Praise and Worship

This weekend a group of teenagers from LAMB Congregation are going to participate in a nationwide Praise and Worship Seminar a couple of hours north of Parbatipur. We leave shortly before work finishes Thursday and plan to return Sunday morning, except that I have to be back by Saturday evening for a farewell for a shorttermer at the school.
Please praise and give thanks for this seminar.
The music will be a mix of contemporary western worship processed and recreated as Bangladeshi songs along with genuine praise from the hearts of the youth here. Pray that we will not only feel closer to God at the seminar, but will walk away from Lalmonirhat in closer relationship with the one who is worthy of our praise.

A break

It is the last weekend before the end of term. I have been tidying and getting ready for teen-group today. There is one more week to go before the summer holidays and more than ever do I feel the need for a break.
Yet, there is so much to do. At half past seven this morning a local believer came by to ask for a loan. She wants to buy a goat-kid and raise it so that in nine months time she can have more kids (goats) and start moving out of poverty.
The way out of dependency is long and filled with risks; a goat is so easy to steal, and so easy for her husband or son to sell if they need a little money. It has to be cared for almost like a child and all of that just so that the family has a little more food - in nine months time.
Twenty five years ago some poor families were given a piece of land to live on. It wasn't clear to everybody who the land belonged to or what right they had to be there – or perhaps it was - but today, these families live on land that is worth millions of taka and yet remain poor because they can't come to an agreement with the legal owner - a church - about who has the Right to the land.
Twenty five years ago it was a good gift that someone gave these poor families, today they are no better of because somewhere during these years they decided they wanted all the land for themselves; and the church decided it wanted it back.
I know these two aren't related, except for that they are part of poverty, but it is with fear and trembling that I give a loan (US$ 10, GB£ 5 or DKK 50) to someone so that she can buy a goat. Not that I doubt her intentions, not that I doubt her need, but I sincerely doubt that poverty will concede defeat and give her the break she so sorely needs.
May God have mercy upon her.

Surrender

This morning I read an email informing us that one potential teacher candidate wasn’t going to come teach at LAMB School. I felt like giving up and wondered whether I had misunderstood God’s plan for us. I was wondering about times when I hadn’t searched God’s will as it seemed like He was telling us O Levels weren’t going to happen. As I entered the school grounds, I surrendered it and our future into God’s hands and prayed for the students who had been hoping to do their O Levels here. Before lunch one person offered to teach two subjects and suggested another teacher for a third. I still don’t know how God will provide someone to teach Physics, Chemistry and Biology but I know it is in His hands. Thank you God and thank you readers for your prayers.

Reasons why

His opening remark yesterday was, “If you raise the monthly fee, I can’t pay it.” My reply was, “That sounds like blackmail.” I calmed down after that and started to listen.

By some mistake the finance department had charged a fee this parent wasn’t supposed to pay – probably my mistake. I assured him the mistake would be corrected and he was greatly relieved. He then went on to tell me about how he no longer was able to buy meat or even eggs for his children, how he hadn’t been able to buy them any fruit this season and how – having taken an advance to pay the older brother’s school fees at a different school meant he wouldn’t get any money this month. The extra fee we had charged meant his advance wasn’t going to be paid back until next month.

As I listened I went through regret, shame and then joy. Regret and shame at my initial reaction and then joy; Here is a father, who has put all his money into the education of his children, whose wife endures living in a lean-to up against her brother’s brick house so that they can send their children to school. Now the oldest daughter has her tenth grade diploma, the oldest son is a star ninth grader in another private school and the youngest is possibly the best in grade 1 at LAMB School.

What a privilege and joy that we can be a part of helping this family by educating one of their children.

Garu gari

It has been years since I last saw a real live ox cart in Bangladesh. This one, unlike more modern versions, has wooden wheels as opposed to car wheels and is pulled by cows rather than by water buffaloes. When this specimen passed by on the road where I live I had to get my camera and take a picture of what is fast becoming an extinct means of transportation.

Chutney

What capacity for feeling possessive the human soul possess. I sit in my living room, writing this as my ears are picking up every hint of falling fruit in my garden lest the neighbours should get there before me. This is the story of every Kal-boishaki storm in Bangladesh, when mangos are prematurely torn of the branches and brought down into jars of chutney. I don’t make chutney and wish I could leave the mangoes for my neighbours to pick up, but I would rather give them to them so that they know of my generosity – and perhaps returns a jar of chutney for the favour.

Hail

Fortunately they are tiny little. None that we saw were more than 1.5 cm
across. Please pray that the Lord of the Harvest will have mercy upon the
farmers for this harvest of rice that has been awaited with so much hope.
When rice prices go up, the poor can't buy enough to feed themselves and
their families. We all knew that the devastation from SIDR was a loss to
overcome. There have been talks about a bumper harvest which would solve the
food crisis in Bangladesh for the time being. Last week the harvest began;
then came Nargis; we all prayed that God would not let another cyclone hit
Bangladesh. It turned South East and made landfall in Myanmar Friday night.
Now everybody is hoping that God will continue to protect the crop and the
people whom it is meant to feed. What do we pray; that God will teach us to
trust in Him? that God will make us into the people he wants us to be? or
just plainly that God will give us our daily rice?

Art Projects for Teens

Karina and Christina taught the teen group how to make bouquets in teen group today. These beautiful flowers were made from old pop bottles and foam fruit wrappers. The teenagers had a wonderful time and did a great job. It is such a privilege being able to spend time with them.

If only

When the poor labourers came to work the first day, one brought her son of about nine. His shorts were worn thin where there weren’t holes in them. Boys go around without but not at the age of nine.

A couple of days earlier I had gone to their house because the oldest son in the house was begging for food. I knew he might lie about their needs and sell any food I gave him, so I felt I had to go see his parents. It would be much easier just to give him money, but I couldn’t take responsibility for letting him get away with taking the food and money for himself; he might get habits like his father’s.

I asked his mother to come work for me, digging a new garbage pit near my house. On the first day, she and the three others working there made TK 125 each, the next day they were down to Tk 110 and then they didn’t show up. I know they don’t always eat, and I was desperate not to rip them off, while also not giving them charity. The boy’s mother and father came on the third day and managed to make TK 190 together, but that was only because I increased the rate by 25% and then rounded every possibly measurement up to the nearest foot. I didn’t want them to know that I was fixing the numbers in their favour.

The ground was hard, but giving in to the need to be charitable is not an option. There has been too many people creating dependencies and to many people who never took responsibility for themselves because of it. Yesterday two of the people who came the first day turned up again. I guess they were hungry. It was much easier with four than with just two but the dirt was no easier to dig than four days earlier, and even with all my creativity I couldn’t justify paying them more than TK 100 each.

That is just under three kilos of rice, and not enough to feed a family of six. Today I could pay them TK 120 each with only a little fixing of numbers. It is so hard to help well but I was thrilled to be able to do that. The rate I paid today was twice of what I had been told others would pay. Perhaps that is when they dig from fields where the soil has been tilled every season. The best advice I was given was to pay two thirds of the rate I use now, but that was for twelve feet under ground, and we are not even half way there.

Another colleague told me he wouldn’t be able to pay what I pay. He didn’t complain about pushing prices up. From much else he does I know he has concern for the poor. It is just that he and most others can’t afford to pay more. I have been given money by a church in Denmark that I am using so for me it is not so difficult.

I found a quote on the internet, said to be by one of the first Muslim leaders, ‘If poverty had been a man, I should have had him executed.’ It is so hard to know how to help well, but I think I already said that.

Over the weekend a colleague who had heard about the boy and his shorts went to town and brought a new pair for him. Two days later, as he came to get his parents after work he was wearing long pants – I guess because the shorts weren’t decent. The look on his face and the tone in his voice as he put the shorts under his arm, chatted to his mother and they left for home was worth a million.

If only helping was always that simple.

Happy New Year

Today is the first year of the Bengali New Year 1415. It is celebrated by some with early rising to see the sunrise. I rose early, but that was only because a neighbour started hammering on his metal door at six.
My plan had been to stay in bed until the parade reached Bashundhara where I live and then join them for the cold rice called 'panta bhat'. In stead I got up and joined the preparations and the march from which I got the photo and others. (Follow the links on the right to the Danish and English School blogs.) We walked around the compound, went outside and across the rail road and had a dance at Bashundhara - where I got this photo. It is a great way of celebrating the beauty of Bangladesh.

On poverty

Today I went for a walk through a village where a number of our students live. I was going with a message to one family, that they had used their last chance to pay outstanding fees. (Their monthly fee is Tk 150 or about US$ 2.20) This is less than 10% of what it cost the school to educate their daughter and about 25% more than what a labourer is supposed to get for one day’s work.

 

On my way I noticed how there was a brick structure going up where the said family lived – how then was it that they hadn’t paid their bills, if they had the money to build a brick house? Brick houses belong to the rich.

They weren’t in, that is, my student was there with her nephew who is just five months younger than she is, her sister – not the nephew’s mother and this sister’s newborn baby boy. I needed to talk to the parents so I went in to the neighbour’s house where there was much activity getting new straw for the roof – a necessity before the rain starts in June.

 

This family had just paid their outstanding bills and I was glad I didn’t also have to remind them about fees. The father works far away and though he sends money home, it is not anywhere near enough for the family to survive. I sat for a while listening to the mother talking about her work as a day labourer; She makes Tk 50 for a day’s work – half of what she has to pay each of the two men who will come to re-thatch the roof, and only slightly more than the Tk 35 she has to pay for a kilo of rice.

She told me how her cousin, who works at LAMB, had said he wouldn’t pay the school fees and then had done so anyway. She had been six months behind. Then she went on to talk about the youngest of her four children who is supposed to get Tk 100/per month from the government but to whom the teachers say that since her father has a job, they won’t give her anything. She wondered who then would get the money.

She told me of her oldest for whom she has to pay Tk 25 every time she goes to take a test and how it is more important to educate the children than to eat.

Then she pointed out that a third student’s toddler sister was playing in the yard; an L-shaped area of about four by four meters. The shape had been a square until she had allowed this family to build a house there when they had been kicked out from where they were living before. They had moved once before when the government cleared all the land along the rail line. The benefit she gained was that there now is an adult male living in the compound; helping to make life a little safer for the three daughters, her son and for herself.

 

I was served water and puffed rice as we talked.

 

While we talked the mother of the first family had returned from work and brought her outstanding bills. I was short with her as I mentioned how they had enough money to build a big brick house, but not to pay the measly Tk 150 we charged to educate her daughter.

It turned out of course that the new brick building belongs to someone else. Our student’s grandfather has sold about 60% of the land his daughter lives on. They were given some of the money as compensation, and had built the foundation and one room; today they told me they had no more money, and they still needed another 500 bricks as well as cement to build one more room and that is before windows, doors and the roof; not to speak of plaster for the walls come into the equation.

 

On the way out I went past one more student’s house; they have added two rooms to their brick house – to make it three rooms total, and hope to put on a roof one of the next few days. The bamboo and old tin was ready. The second grader pointed out which room she wanted and I was encouraged to see, that here was one family for whom life is getting a little better.

Teen Group

Dipa taught the about the armour of Christ using Sweet as a prop when the
teen group went to Siraj Nagar to participate with another group in a
seminar.

Bina

Tuesday before Easter one of my colleagues (not at the school) and her husband were watching TV when they heard moaning noises from their 12 year old work-girl. The girl had wanted to go back to her village and her grandmother since she had come about a month previously. It is very common that families send their daughters (and sometimes sons) away to work at a young age. This often solves two problems – the work-girls family have one less mouth to feed and the family the children work for have someone who can take care of little children or help with household chores. My colleague went into the room and tried talking to the girl who at first didn’t respond. It didn’t take long before she noticed that there was a ring of hair around the bed in which the girl lay. Someone had cut the hair and placed it in a band around the bed. When my colleague touched the work-girl to make her wake up, she felt a strange sensation going through her body and didn’t remember anything until almost three hours later.

 

When a friend of mine (I apologize for not using names, but some of the readers might recognise people) arrived at the home it was closer to midnight. The work-girl was on the veranda and the woman she worked for was sitting in the living room laughing and crying. A group of church people had gathered and were singing and praying in another room. My friend didn’t have to ask to get the story. He could see the hair for himself and noticed how beautifully it had been cut. Soon the church people arrived in the living room and started praying and asking the woman to say each other’s names, to hold and read a Bible and to say Jesus’ name. They were quite unsuccessful. The only exciting thing that happened was when the work-girl came into the room and they started shouting at each other; the woman shouted to get the girl out of the room.

 

After having failed, the church people decided to leave and prepare themselves better before trying to right the situation again. They came back after some time and realised that the woman had been sitting in a corner of the room. After putting her in the centre and laying hands on her and many more prayers had gone up the woman finally started talking coherently; reading a Bible verse, saying people’s names and even Jesus’.

 

The following morning the work girl was taken back to her step-mother and the village she had come from. On the way there she said, ‘my grandmother is happy now that I am coming back home to perform puja.’ (Puja is an act of devotion in Hindu religion.)

 

Please pray with me for this girl, her name is Bina.

 

Blogging in Bangladesh

So that you may keep yourselves informed about what I do here in Bangladesh I have decided to start a blog. It will include stories, news and pictures from my life here. You can always continue reading the school blog for information about the school.