of Banni and arrival gates

Allow me to introduce you to Banni. She's been one of my roommates for the past six months (well until this mission group arrived) and is so much fun to be around. Banni's probably about my age but as with most kids here, she doesn't know for sure what her birthday is. Banni works in the office as everyone's secretary, running here and there, laminating, etc. The Waid's took Banni under their wing a long time ago because she doesn't have any other family. They are Mom and Dad to her.

I've had so much fun getting to know Banni. She really is one of the best dancers I've ever seen. She moves so gracefully to the Hindi music, arms splayed out to the side and head tilted ever so slightly as she spins in small circles. We had a dance party one night in our room, blaring Spice Girls "Wannabe" from my poor laptop speakers. We all just bobbed around to the music and when that was done, Banni put in some Hindi tapes and did a little show for us. It was just incredible to watch her move.

Banni has really become like a sister to me. She's been there for some of my hardest experiences in Bangladesh as well as some of the most fun. She keeps saying that when I go home I'm going to forget about her but I don't think I could. Banni, just like so many other people here, is in my soul and has a piece of my heart. I'm going to miss my Bangla sister so very much.

As I'm writing this, Dad is bustling around me getting ready for bed and figuring out our water situation. I left on a 9am bus out of Hili this morning and got into Dhaka just after 4pm. I promptly jumped into an autorickshaw because I didn't want to be late seeing Dad. If only I knew he was flying on Biman, aka an hour late. So I sat in the arrival section, nervously pacing back and forth, anxiously waiting for Dad. Finally I saw that his plane had arrived but there as no sign of him near the immigration desks that I could see from my seat.

With the plane being 35min late, and after another almost 40min of waiting after that, I decided to head down to the opposite end of the terminal where he should have been picking up his bags. That's when I saw him, my dad. Around the same time, he looked over and saw me too. Tears came to my eyes, shocked that this is becoming a reality and not just existing in the phone lines between Bangladesh and Canada. It was a while before the luggage carousel began to turn but I didn't mind waiting on the other side of the glass, incredulous to see someone that I haven't seen in six months.

Tears, hugs, kisses, and pictures. That's how the first two minutes of reconnection were spent. It was a moment to remember.

We scuttled outside into the humid air and I looked for an autorickshaw to take us back to the dental clinic. Since we were at the airport, everyone assumed I knew nothing and tried to rip us off. 350tk for a ride. As if. lol I came not two hours earlier the same way for only 50tk. I know, I'm Bangladeshi. You should have seen Dad's face the first time in that small cage, hurtling down the roads in crazy traffic, horns blaring. All these things that I've become so accustomed to are now being shown for how OUT of the ordinary they are.

As Dad said, " All your pictures and blogs make so much more sense now. I only understood such a small portion of what life was like here before. Wow..."

We dropped his bags off at the dental clinic and ran to the photo place before it closed for the night. Dad needs some more passport pictures in case we need them for Thailand, Laos, or Burma. And even if he doesn't need them, at 8 pictures for less than $4, you can't go wrong. I paid over $20 for only three pictures in Canada--bloody post office people ripped me off. lol

Then I took Dad to the place that just epitomizes Dhaka for me. There's a pedestrian crossing that goes across the road and when you stand in the middle and fully take in what you are seeing, the culture shock starts to set in slowly. You see the lights, hear the horns, notice how no one is capable of staying in their own lane, and wonder why you don't hear more crunching sounds of metal on metal.

After a couple minutes of soaking in Dhaka, we headed to Dhan Suri, my favourite restaurant. Rice, butter dhal, garlic naan, and vegetable masalla. Yum. I handed Dad a fork then proceeded to mash up my food with my fingers, Bengali style. Dad started laughing so hard at the sight of me doing this, yet another thing that is so second nature to me. He promptly put down his fork and I showed him the ins and outs of eating like a Bengali. We had some good laughs :) [Side note: I was kinda proud of the fact that the masalla didn't bother me half as much as it bothered Dad--spicyness wise. His nose was running and he was reaching for water but I was holding my own! It could have been because I diluted mine with dhal, but I like to believe it's because I retrained my taste buds in the last six months!]

We walked back after dinner and started to settle down for the night. Dad's still pretty jetlagged and is currently snoring loudly in the bed next to me. It feels so weird to have him in the room that I've shared with so many other people along the way, playing tour guide in the life that I've been living these past six months. We are leaving on a 7am bus out of Dhaka in the morning, which means we have to leave by 6am, which further means we have to eat breakfast by 5:30. I'm just excited to get back to the orphanage to spend as much time with my kids as I can! I have four days left in Bangladesh before we go to India. Yikes. Time is blowing by!

anyways, I should get to bed too... I'm sure I'll sleep on the bus but I could sure use some sleep right now too! Keep us in your prayers as we start our journey home, slowly but surely one step at a time.
ami tomake bhalobashi