I have known Moslehuddin and Noorealam for a long time now–8 years. When I first met them, they were both students at the orphanage and around 14 years old. They taught Nicole and I Bangla words and phrases and took us to homes in the area. They were our cultural ‘guides’, and we had a lot of fun together. I felt a deep attachment to them, and when we left, Nicole and I decided to help M and N and their classmates to go to college (meaning, grades 11 and 12 in American system). So began a long relationship.
Moslehuddin and Noorealam are now 22/23. They are doing their Honors (bachelors) at Dhaka College. They’ve grown up to be very different people, and you can see it in the tensions that often erupt these days. Several times in the last few months, I have been asked, by each of them, separately, to mediate disputes. Moslehuddin, by far the more mature of the two, calls me at least once every two days to tell me what’s happening between them, urging me to make a decision and force Noorealam to abide by it. As their boro apu (big sister), I do have this kind of authority, but I am reticent to use it. And it’s not always clear to me when and if Noorealam is telling me the truth about his side of the story.
Moslehuddin says that a local boy has been harassing him and calling him ’street boy’, because Moslehuddin had a ‘relationship’ with the boy’s sister. Now Moslehuddin wants to move to a different part of the city, but Noorealam says it’s too far away from their English class. But when does Noorealam’s English class end? Moslehuddin says June, Noorealam says August. Who am I supposed to believe? Should I, like the mother of a middle schooler, call the teacher? This is only a small example of the kinds of problems that come ringing on my cell phone.
When Nicole and I started funding the kids, I didn’t have any idea what kind of commitment I was undertaking. Eight years later, Moslehuddin and Noorealam are only in their 3rd year of bachelors’, with intentions of doing their masters’ before getting jobs. Every time I see Moslehuddin’s mother in the village, she begs me to take good care of him and help him to get a good job.
When Fulbright asks us to engage with the local population, I wonder if they ever imagine these kinds of relationships. I am glad that I have been a part of Moslehuddin and Noorealam’s lives. But our interactions are not always happy and uncomplicated.
