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To Bangladesh and Back
August 20, 2000
Dear Friends,
In 1990, my family and I moved to Bangladesh. My parents, Les
and Cindy Morgan, had been planning this ever since they knew
each other, and my dad probably had it planned even before that,
since he visited there when he was in college. So it didn’t
come as much of a shock at all to find myself in Bangladesh. At
that point, I was seven and enthusiastic to learn about the culture,
the language, and the people.
One of the most influential people for me during that time of
initial integration was our ayah, Bidu. She played with my brothers
and me, cared for us, and taught us the language, Bengali, and
the culture. She lived nearby with her family in a small, two-room
hut of jute sticks, palm fronds, cow dung, and mud. One time I
decided to try staying over at her house, just for the experience.
She and her family agreed, so I spent the night over there. I
wanted to spend a full 24 hours completely immersed in the culture.
I squeezed in with Bidu, her husband, and young daughter onto
their wooden double bed with a grass mat as a mattress. I spoke
only Bengali, even with my parents when they came to check on
me. Since I had math homework due, I got my mom to write the problems
out in Bengali, so I could do them without breaking my "complete
Bangladesh" experience. I bathed in my clothes in the neighborhood
pond with Bidu. By the time I got home the next afternoon, I was
exhausted, even though I hadn’t done any chores, as Bidu
had done. It helped me understand first-hand the amazing strength
these people must have to survive, and also how easy my life is
in comparison.
Besides learning about Bangladesh through Bidu, I learned a lot
about our area by going out exploring by myself or with my younger
brothers, Everett and Stewart. I spent most of my time making
bows and arrows from bamboo, jute sticks, and string, finding
secret hideouts in the jungle, and running through the rice fields
in my cut-offs and t-shirt. I was different from anything the
village people had ever seen before, but I made friends and loved
learning more about how the society works. There were no kids
besides my brothers and me who spoke English, so we all learned
Bengali fast talking to our friends.
One of my best friends was Aisha. She lived in a Muslim "bari,"
a group of houses owned by various members of an extended family.
She was about my age, but she wasn’t free to go running around
playing games with me because she was already involved in the
numerous chores to do around her "bari." So I would
go visit her and watch how she cared for her infant cousins, prepared
family meals, wove grass mats, and did many other tasks that she
took for granted were her responsibilities. She never thought
she was too young to be doing all of this. She accepted me as
different because I didn’t have to work like she did. I could
run around in shorts even though I was a girl; I spoke a different
language, English. I lived with only my nuclear family in a huge
house (by comparison). Just being from the other side of the world
was all the explanation anyone needed for my "differences."
Over time, I integrated many of the Bengali values and customs
into my American background. In retrospect, I know that my being
in Bangladesh changed my life forever. Because I lived in that
culture for 10 years, I think differently, I react differently,
I feel differently, and everything I know is based on a world
that I wouldn’t even have imagined if my parents hadn’t
been determined to be missionaries in Bangladesh (of all places).
Ten years later
On May 26 of this year, I graduated from Kodaikanal International
School ("Kodai"). in Tamil Nadu, India, where I attended
for three years. A boarding school for grades four and up, it’s
a three-day journey from my home in Bangladesh—and much farther
for many of the other students. Kodai has a student body with
a wide diversity in background, race, culture, and religion. My
friends were from India, Kenya, Nepal, Australia, Japan—everywhere.
Having been a part of that multi-cultural community, I appreciate
the unity in the diversity of all the people there. That’s
one of the things about Kodai: People from completely different
backgrounds can interact perfectly because at Kodai the mixture
of cultures has created a new culture. The kids all use the same
slang, wear the same clothes, like the same music. We become "Kodaiites"—not
just "Americans," "Indians," "Koreans,"
etc. Even beyond my experiences in Bangladesh, Kodai made me aware
of the richness of all the various cultures, as well as the immense
possibilities in cross-cultural interaction and understanding.
I really miss Kodai, and most of all Rashi. Rashi Mittal is my
best friend from Kodai. Originally from North India, she moved
to Tamil Nadu when she was two. She’d never flown on a plane,
never been out of India, never been good friends with any non-Indian,
but we became best friends. Now she’s going to college in
Bangalore in South India, and we’re still keeping in touch
by e-mail.
At the end of this August, I’ll to fly (by myself) to Colby
College in Maine. The biggest challenge for me during this time
of transition back into American culture will be integrating my
"American" background and my "Bangladeshi/Indian"
background. I have American parents, an American home, an American
birthplace, and an American passport, but I’ve lived more
of my life on the Indian sub-continent than in the United States.
I want to hold onto my past, but I also want to fit into this
"new" American culture. Over the coming months, that
will be my challenge—learning how to build a news life in
America upon my former life as a missionary kid in Bangladesh
and South India.
Laura Morgan
Colby College
7007 Mayflower Hill
Waterville, ME 07901-8870
E-mail: lwmorgan@colby.edu
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