The Exhaustion of Being Involved with an Orphanage

In the last two weeks, the cook and the cleaning lady quit their jobs. The left-over salary money has been quickly re-allocated in order to re-hire the teacher/education supervisor and another cleaning lady. We’re not talking about much money here–only $50 or so per month–but it must be used wisely.

Why would anyone want to work at the orphanage (e.g. the cleaners or the guard)? It will never be profitable. And this one at least is constantly on the brink of disaster. A salary is never certain.  Yet still they stay, because the other possibilities are no more certain.

Aid organizations do  not want to provide funding for orphanages, because they will rarely be self-sufficient.  And it’s not quite as ’sexy’ as micro-lending.  We like the notion of giving a little money to make people suddenly self-sufficient.  But in my opinion, it doesn’t work that way (look forward to my next blog post!).

Sometimes I envy the people who work in the bureaucracies of NGOs in Dhaka. Their work seems so much more straight-forward and is not so bound up in the personal lives of individuals. They do not have to weather the daily ups and downs of a struggling institution.  I would never, of course, trade my experiences here in the orphanage… but it’s exhausting to be a part of something that often seems so mired in impossibility.

A Trip to the end of the world for Reshmi

The day after I got to Char Fasson, I was invited on a trip to Dhal Char to hand out saris, lungis, and some cash to those people who had lost their homes and belongings during Tropical Storm Reshmi.  Reshmi, in fact, was the reason I couldn’t leave for Char Fasson earlier.  I agreed to go, not realizing how far away Dhal Char is from Char Fasson town; in fact, it is the last char (island) before you get to the Bay of Bengal.  It took an hour bus ride (over a terrible, terrible road), then a 15 minute rickshaw ride to the river, then an hour and a half boat ride around the chars till we landed at Dhal Char.  The boat ride came at the middle of the day, with the tropical sun beating down on us.  It was hard to think of the Bay of Bengal as beautiful at that point!

Once we arrived, the members of the charity group went to the Union Parishad building to explain to people in the area what would happen that afternoon.l  Then we rested, as Bengalis are wont to do, ate lunch, and the event began.  It was mass chaos, as the charity group (all men of course) herded men and women into separate lines; the rest of the people who were not receiving anything all crowded in to watch.  Each person in line was quickly given a sari or a lungi and then roughly commanded to go away (unless, of course, they were one of the lucky few picked for a photo op with the group).  I sat there in disgust, knowing that this is probably what usually happens in Bangladesh.  Poor people are looked down upon, and are only of use when one can use the opportunity to show one’s wealth and power.

Once it was over, we quickly headed back to the boat, reaching Char Fasson by 8 or 9, at which point I was completely unable to eat dinner.  Thanks, Reshmi, for such an eye-opening experience.