Inspiration

Over the span of our lives we may run into a few people that inspire us or that we look up to.  These people aren't sports heroes or politicians, but people that over the course of many years, we have had the opportunity to get to know and understand.  These people impact our lives in ways that we may or may not understand  It may be something subtle and we may not realize the influence until many years later.  My Grandpa Hesse is one of those people.  My Grandpa died yesterday.

As I look back over the years at our relationship and how it evolved, I have many fond memories of the two of us.  On my visit this summer, I knew it would probably be the last time I saw him.  His health had been in steady decline for a few years now and he was having difficulty with many of the simplest things.  One thing that was never in decline was his curiosity.  Grandpa was always interested in what I had to say and the stories I had to tell about my adventures either abroad or in the States.  He and I exchanged "war" stories on almost every visit.

This summer I had the honor of introducing my son Kiran Virgil Hesse to his namesake.  They really hit it off, as best an old man and an infant can.  Grandpa also impressed Kaya with his workshop and all the tools he had.  In fact, he made such an impression on Kaya that later on in the summer when Kaya asked me to build him something that I was unable to build, he promptly said, "well, we can just have Great Grandpa Hesse build it!"

One of the things Grandpa instilled in me was an affinity for wood carving.  One of my earlier memories with Grandpa was when I carved a totem pole for him.  The piece had three characters and if you turned the pole upside down you would have three different people.  Over the years, I have carved two pieces for Grandpa.  He had one that I recently carved him on display in his workshop and the original piece was tucked behind some carving tools.  He was excited to find it and promptly hung it up next to the latter.  Both those items were inspired from what I had seen him do and things he had taught me.

I think the thing I will always remember and appreciate about Grandpa is his ability to create and make things.  He would take an idea or a concept and replicate it, but not in the way he saw it, but in his version.  Grandpa would alter things to be better.  One example of this is the carving knives he made.  Throughout the years, he has given me quite a few knives.  I pulled them out last night and I could see how he would experiment with the design.  It was easy for me to identify his earliest versions compared with his later models.  I have been and continue to be inspired by his creativity. 

On that last visit, I wanted to tell him, but I didn't, that he shouldn't be afraid to die because he would always be alive in what he has given me.  Through the way he inspired me to be more creative, to seek out how things work and to be curious.  He will always live through the things he built, carved and made throughout the years.  (There is always a good story behind everything he made.)  He will always be alive in name and in blood because I will tell my sons about what a wonderful Grandpa I had.  He was the perfect Grandpa.  We had the kind of relationship that I hope my sons will have with their Grandpas for many years to come.  I hope that my Dad and Sheela's Dad have an impact and a connection with Kaya and Kiran in a special way that I did with my Grandpa.

I am sad that I will not be there to lay him to rest, but I promise Grandpa, that I will come visit you next summer when I get back home.

If I were in charge...

If I were in charge of Bangladesh there are so many things I would need to do to get this place in order.  The operative word in that last sentence being order.  There is order in a diluted cast system kind of way, but that's only part of the problem.  My first order of business as the PIC (person in charge) would be to start educating the children (we are all children right?) about street safety.  Reflecting on my childhood, I distinctly recall numerous lectures from both parents and school teachers.  "Look both ways before you cross the street", was drilled into my head until it became second nature.  It would seem that, "just walk into the street and look surprised when you turn around and are almost hit by something moving", is the message most Bangladeshis are getting from somewhere.

As the PIC, I would also require all Bangladeshis to take a lining up test.  I am quite certain the older population would have more difficulty passing this test than the young ones.  In my campaign to keep the streets safe I would also make it clear that people should walk on the sidewalks, not the busy streets.  Furthermore, there should be absolutely, positively no riding of motorcycles on the sidewalks.  (Even when  traffic is at a dead standstill and a sidewalk is open.)  Oh yeah and speaking of motorcycles, as the PIC I would make it clear that helmets should be worn on a person's head, not dangling from their handlebars.

Another street safety issue that was recently brought to my attention when I was nearly struck  head on by a cyclist going the wrong way, is the law that in order to remain safe on the roads, you should go with traffic, not against it.  This rule would apply to cyclists, rickshaws, CNGs, cars and buses.  Just because you drive a Lexus and own a garment factory does not exempt you from this law.

As the PIC I may need to send out a memo that horns are meant to be used in emergency situations not to be used when passing someone or for no apparent reason.  Even with all this, the streets still wouldn't be safe.  In my school education street safety program, we would play the game red light, green light, where students go on green and stop when the teacher says, "red light".  Students would color stop signs just to reinforce the concept with a visual reminder.  They could even take their new sign home to educate their parents.

This new education street safety program wouldn't solve many of Bangladesh's other major issues; pollution, poverty, power, corruption, but it's a good start.  I am quite confident that if we can inject some sort of order into this great nation, we can then move forward, rather than being stuck in traffic or running into each other.

Back in Dhaka

I made it back to Dhaka. Now, it is the middle of the night and I am wide awake.  My body thinks it's Monday at 2pm, but my body doesn't know everything.  Or does it?  I figured this would be a good time to write.  I flew back without my family and it was quite strange.  I did a lot of reflecting over the course of the 3, 15 and 5 hour flights I took to get here.  I have always enjoyed people watching, but I noticed the families much more this time and my heart went out the mothers that were doing their best to calm their kids during these ridiculously long flights.  I thought a lot about Sheela and the boys and how much I already missed them.  As a child, my father said he passed up opportunities to travel to parts of the world for work because he didn't want to be away from us.  I know how he felt.  Sheela, the boys and her father will be flying on the 24th.  Let's just say, I can't wait!!

The flight(s) to Dhaka are always interesting and as you get closer to Bangladesh they can become frustrating.  In our three flights to Dhaka, we first have a trip to somewhere in the middle east.  Our first year we flew to Dubai and now we have flown to Doha in Qatar.  I always like to see who is flying to the middle east.  This trip was no different from any other, a nice mixture of everyone, with me being a minority and also the tallest.  Since I knew 15 hours would be a long time to be sitting wedged between two people I didn't know, I requested to be placed in an emergency row.  The thought behind this is that I would at least be able to stretch my legs out.  In retrospect, this my not have been the best idea.  I had forgotten that people use this middle emergency row for a passageway to the other side of the plane.  I had my toes and clothes stepped on and even my glass of orange juice spilled on me.  Finally, I set up a blockade with the tray and flip up movie screen.  This worked well for the adults, but this wily little girl continued to play toe tag with me as she woke me several times.  GRRR...

I had mixed emotions as I was in flight.  I definitely felt the empty void of being without my family.  I wished I hadn't left them behind and missed them desperately.  I was also starting to question my decision to go abroad and be away from family, friends and all that living in the States has to offer.  It was the same feeling I had in my gut as I left for Peace Corps oh so many years ago.  I didn't recall ever feeling this way since that first trip abroad.  I think the fact that I had a great summer and did so many exciting things coupled with the mild addiction to coffee (that I solidified this trip) made this exit a difficult one.

Getting onto the last leg for the trip, I was reminded of (and mildly amused by) the Bangladeshi approach to getting on any vehicle or going anywhere.  Push, crowd and cut in front of anyone you can!!!  Of course I am not saying all Bangladeshis do this, but in general, it has been my observation that any flight into Dhaka has been plagued with disarray and the flight attendants trying to coerce folks into forming lines, turning off cell phones, keeping seat belts on and staying seated during landing.  I am glad I can still laugh at this scene.

Hours away from Dhaka, I was wondering how I would feel as I landed.  Years ago, Peace Corps Ed told me that you could tell if you really liked a place by how you felt as you were about to land.  In this case, I still had the mixed emotions.  The guy in the row next to me that stood up the exact second a wheel touched the ground and not know it, he reminded me that I would be returning to a land where people do what they can to survive and are so different from myself.  The lessons I learned (and sometimes forget) from Peace Corps have helped me to survive here in Bangladesh.  The cultural differences are so vast and so many that I sometimes focus on them rather than the moment, the similarities and the experience.  I looked at that person and had to smile as the flight attendant attempted to make him sit down.

Eventually, I made it through immigration and over to baggage claim where I was promptly greeted by one of my Bangladeshi friends!  A mosha, or mosquito as we call them, landed on my arm as if to say, "Welcome back my friend, we are here for you, would you like a dose of malaria or dengue!"  I collected my bags and then proceeded through customs, pretending to not hear the customs person as I was carrying an extra bottle of spirits.

When people ask me what Bangladesh is like, I always say, "intense".  I walked out of the airport where hundreds of people were reaching through the fences, asking for anything and everything.  Mofiz, the van driver, was there to greet me and we were soon off.  The latest news from him was exactly the same as when he picked me up on a previous trip: "Lot of rain and very hot sir."  We left the airport and got stuck in a traffic jam.  After several days of travel, I was home at last.

After an extreme year last year, I don't know what this one will bring, but I know that I am very lucky in so many ways and I am ready to learn from all the challenges life has to offer.  When I landed in Dhaka this time, I longed for my family, but was excited to begin a new chapter in life.