I wanted to move to Botswana for a lot of reasons:

Let Rana see her family before moving to SA

Give Mbuy a chance to be decent before I got married

Get a divorce

Live somewhere a bit familiar and safe

The air is so good here. clean, hotly fresh. There's space to breath. The airport has straight clean lines everywhere, immigration, luggage, the pathway outside to the parking lot. It's like being at home but it's hot and there are Africans everywhere, the absence of which makes Canada too unbearable. Everything was orderly and clean from the time we stepped onto the Tarmac. Botswana did not lose its shine in my eyes until after the first two months, that's when the cracks started to show.

We will soon be leaving Gaborone, but during our brief stay here I am seeing it as a debrief from our rather hectic life in Nairobi. A time where we learned to trust people a little more, including our two wonderful neighbours who helped us get furniture and watched our open gate all night when it was malfunctioning (unknown to me, who was fast asleep).

We started to unwind a bit and slow down. After having such a fast and fun life in Nairobi and how I couldn’t make anything work in the most beautiful country. Twice- but more on that in a different chapter. it has been good to entertain ourselves more often at home, although not always and establish a slower routine.

Walking outside. A big part of the debrief has been to not fear the unknown/known. Although I have walked, taken public transport, many places in Africa, not in Nairobi. So this time in Gaborone has allowed me space to feel a bit braver again despite, like maybe I am not a stranger afterall.

this was shortlived.

My contract in Botswana abruptly ended after I uncovered some corruption with the CBOs they chose to work with, they asked me to go along with it or resign. which is unfortunate. I had a turnaround of 7 days to pack and sell everything and move to Bangladesh with my boyfriend (fiancee?) I did something a little sneaky and boarded a flight to Dhaka (instead of to Montreal) at the last minute in Dubai with just our carry-on luggage, the rest of our stuff was shipped from Gaborone thanks to a friend at the office and so much cross-cultural logistics coordination.

I look at the smear of dirt and sweat left by the street kid who just moments before tried to touch my face through the glass of the back window.  I am trying to look beyond this at the modern architecture and beautifully painted advertisements trying not to fixate on the trash and industrial debris, both human and plastic strewn about.

At various times during the day I choke down bile that is my disgust while I look around me at thee generally deplorable condition of humanity. The stench and the filth, the meanness and the squalor, like a post-apocalyptic Dickensian novel. This is what hell looks like. People piled on top of each other, Pollution of every sort, severe gender disparity, massive consumerism all flooded in acid raid, where dogs and children fight for scraps of food and attention.

The best security guard on our street is employed at a restaurant called Time Out located directly across the street from our apartment building, they claim to sell Mexican-type food and is popular with young people. The skills that make him a good guard are his continuity, his attentiveness and his friendly demeanour. He is the only person on this block I would seek out if there was an actual emergency. On the other hand the guards in our building have been numourous, inattentive, sporadic, and weak looking. We have been lucky to have the same guard last longer than a month as I suspect the caretaker does not pass on their salaries, the same way the cash to run the generator does not make it to the required person in order for it to run, ever.

Meanwhile, I have been trying to get Rana registered for school here, furnish the apartment, entertain Rana and find clean drinking water! The city is pretty much the worst place we have ever lived. It always smells like sewage and industrial waste.  plus its really crowded and humid! But we are finding ways to make it liveable (cupcakes, basketball, swimming, movie downloads).

In the meantime Rana and I went on short trips to Bangkok and Amman because our visas expire every 30 days.   

I have so many journal entries over the years trying to express depression and anxiety. When I link them together they display an unnerving pattern

This time around there is something more shocking for me than “culture”, it is more about the way my entire mode of life has changed. So instead of being a contract worker, responsible for bringing in the income, my partner is now in that role. I used to contract childcare responsibilities out, even for 2 months at a time! Now I am the primary caregiver. Our lives revolved around work, social engagements and children's activities. Now for her and I they revolve around runs to the market, cleaning the house and entertaining ourselves. Oh, and waiting for my partner to get home for dinner.

Don't get me wrong, I value any woman (or man’s) choice to stay home with kids. It is challenging and I have said it many times as I dropped my own kid off at homecare to go to class/work.  It was just never part of living overseas that I had ever imagined.  That’s why I call it a sort of “culture shock,” in the way that adjusting to a new environment can be isolating and unfamiliar.

Anyway, we have enough time (and great restaurants) to figure our way out.

I felt sad, helpless and angry. It is not Bangladesh that holds the standard for oppression of women. There are countless organizations doing similar projects around the world. The government and many nationals could care less.

I find myself making a great effort to avoid stories and sights of suffering these days. Its too much for me to handle when I am so impotent. Because how can one see suffering of a fellow human being and not feel compelled to act?

 These days I have noticed myself starting off a sentence with "sometimes I worry..." this is new. I didn't worry as much before. I certainly didn't make it public if I did. When I was a bit younger I know I possessed the self-confidence of knowing everything would work out, mostly because I knew I was very adaptable. I know now the limitations of my adaptability and flexibility both physically and mentally. Perhaps this is what worries me beyond all else.

  Whenever I feel confident enough to apply myself to something new; thank goodness for Frank who is always there to remind me of how incapable I am of doing the current things in my life.   Love? Not worrying about someone's feelings because they will stick with you anyway. Its probably too complicated by now to worry about trivial things like respect, shared values and sensitivities.   I'm feeling sad that Frank physically comes home to eat dinner with us but says very little and goes off by himself at the first opportunity. Some days I would like to stay in bed, curl up in a ball and cry all day. My heart hurts. I don't know why.  I should hide this from Rana. I also feel angry and irritated irrationally. I shouldn't be with other people but I hate being alone. 

No matter how much we try and prepare our offspring for a big move to another country, they are never going to adapt the same way we are.

Right now, this 5yr old is having a tough time adjusting to a new life in Dhaka. It doesn't matter that she has spent most of her life outside of Canada, and is generally pretty good at adapting and meeting new people/trying new things. At the present moment in time she feels lost and a bit confused and can’t understand people’s accents, doesnt like that the food is so spicy or that we suddenly walk everywhere instead of taking taxis to places with not so many kid centered activities. She also has not found a great way to express all of these feelings of expectations and possibly disappointments besides acting out.

Traveling as a single person is exciting. It still is as a parent. When you are single it is easy to just go with the flow and see what comes up. If you eat once a day, no problem! You get sick from said food, ah well… Better luck next time, all part of the adventure, etc.

As a parent, managing someone’s unexpressed culture shock and exposure to risk is much trickier. Always making sure there is bottled water around, cause the water from the tap can’t be used even for brushing teeth. Planning meals (and snacks). Finding recreational activities when school is out, which are close and safe. Talking to strangers and what does this mean in each city?? What to wear…

The rules always change for adults when we move to a new place based on cultural norms, space and environment, it can be very confusing for a kid.

 When we arrived here, one year ago, I was afraid to leave the Gulshan Lake park. Rana and I would exit the guesthouse located on road 62, from the back which would lead directly to the park. Although I could see on the map that there were many things nearby, Nando's, the American Club, the Canadian School, Gulshan 2 circle, I was so fearful that we would get turned around and no one would/could help us to find our way back. So everyday we would venture out a few steps further to explore the parameters of the park, peering out beyond the rot ironfence at what possibly might be beyond.

When I did make my way beyond the boundaries of the park, at least a week later, I found a playground. The playground was surrounded by a tall fence with barbed wire. It was the American club and required a membership for access. The heat and the long days filled with border, anxiety and Tom and Jerry made this barrier exhausting and frustrating.

Since we have arrived in Dhaka my identity in terms of how I approach work has changed. I no longer live to work as I once did, trying to stay relevant- desperate to be current. instead my time is spent cultivating other interests and relationships knowing that I have enough skills to enable me to make a living without it being my life.

12/15/2013

Today I went to a fundraiser in a beautiful garden. The house is occupied by a couple who works for the World Bank and CARE, respectively. There were so many delicious snacks and drinks, nice, caring people and children brought from a girls shelter to perform a traditional dance for us while we sipped coffee and had cakes. This particular organization was set up by the Mennonites to save women and girls from a life on the streets (prostitution/shame) after having been mal-treated and oppressed in many different forms. This organization gave them hope, dreams and security through training and empowerment. The Director (Australian) stressed the need for this organization to exist because it is unique and there are so many  women and girls in need in Bangladesh, particularly.

To many people in North America there are not many differences between Africa and Asia. But when you are living here, in either of these places there are huge differences. There are of course similarities too.

There are a lot of scary things to think about in the subcontinent that were never a concern in Africa-at least not in the places we lived. Namely, monsoons, dengue fever, overpopulation, and industrial pollution.

Of course there are all the beautiful colors and delicious food, green tropical flora and friendly people that we could look forward to, all those surface things foreigners notice and romanticize.

However, since I have never had the inclination to live in Asia, the idea of it is still pretty overwhelming and I am now starting to understand the feeling some expats have when arriving in Africa.

It has been one year since we arrived in Dhaka and so much has changed since R and I were picked up by my fiance in the crowded and smelly airport in the capital of Bangladesh.

I have never experienced culture shock the way I have living here. Despite its inspirational history of independence, the friendliness of people (although I have never really met ‘unfriendly people’ anywhere I have been and the fascinating nuances of culture apparent in everything, this place is filled with poverty, despair and a general wretchedness which has made me want to avoid going out, like no place else I have ever been. Maybe because there is so much here- rapid industrialization, water, electricity and food, progressive policies and community organizations. But perhaps its just me. There were days when I wouldn’t get out out of bed and there were weeks when I cried for no reason. But as usual there were great new friends to share complaints, find stuff with, try new things with. My wonderful family who let me be myself, gave me lots of cuddles or left me alone (depending on the situation) and prevented me from over thinking small things by distracting me with food, friends and fun.

Despite the fact that my brain was not working at full capacity- I ran out of medication to treat my epilepsy and migraines and could only find an inadequate substitute here this has been incredibly frustrating and at times defeating, I managed to learn two new things How to play tennis. How to play Mahjong and I love them both.

In the coming year I plan on learning how to sew with a sewing machine and how to speak Spanish.and possibly starting a post-grad diploma, I am excited about that!

The past year has taught me many things about myself that I would have never guessed otherwise:

I am more of an environmentalist than I thought- this comes from living in a place so vulnerable to climate change, filled with poisonous food and various forms of pollution all around, everyday.

I am better at being a stay at home mom than I would have ever guessed, arranging playdates, baking for snacks, participating in school meetings and researching enrichment activities, along with just enjoying time with a 5 year old. I will always cherish this time spent together.

TV does not make me dumber. I LOVE watching all the great new series’ with my partner once our kid has gone to bed.

I will eat rice or pasta with weevils in it. This is something I likely would have never done before but seems so wasteful to do otherwise.

I now have little tolerance for food poisoning, noise, crowds or traffic. Whereas at another point in my life, when I was younger, I would always seize the opportunity to go to a cultural event, eat local food and explore. that is just not me anymore, I prefer to hang out with my family and some friends within walking distance of our place.

I no longer want to do something great, I just want to be great at the something I do.

All said, this year has been a challenging one for me and to be honest I am glad it is over and am very much looking forward to the next one. Which starts with a refreshing trip back to Canada (I am now bracing for the re-entry shock), our wedding in Sri Lanka and then on to a brighter year in Dhaka!

I often feel like the skills I posses are not the ones I can adequately convey in writing in a 3 page CV. They can mostly be conveyed as: when the shit hits the fan, has an ability to cope with unreasonable personal stress Granted as a result several health concerns have emerged as a result over the years from taking life on the chin including migraines, digestive issues and very strange scalp rash/hair loss at particularly stressful times…

When we got back from our destination wedding in Sri Lanka (this will be covered in a different post), we all started to settle back in quite well to our respective routines in Dhaka; school, work, friends. I had started working at R’s school which I promptly dropped for more lucrative and fulfilling work consulting with NGOs. All the pieces were falling into place.

While out on a food tasting with Dhaka Foodies at one of the Korean restaurants I got a text message that Frank had been asked to resign and we had 2 weeks to the country. nearly vomiting I rushed home. This is of course devastating and more frequent everywhere, losing your job in a foreign country has huge implications for your entire life. What recourse does he have, what about severance. We must vacate the apartment in 2 weeks- will the organization pay for shipping? what about school? what about our visas? since our visas are sponsored this affects our recreation privileges, will they pay for R and I to fly home, to what city and when?

So here is what we did:

1. Be flexible and conciliatory

We had to turn over our apartment to the organization after 2 weeks. I helped the new person settle in and in exchange he let R and I stay longer in the apartment while he went of vacation. This helped me deal with a lot of bitter feelings. After all it wasn’t his fault!

2. Do what is best for your family, rather than what is “normal”

Frank and I decided he would go back to America and look for work while R and I stayed. At first I felt humiliated and wanted to tuck tail and flee. Upon further reflection and discussion with good friends I decided it would be better for my young child to naturally transition out of school with her classmates at the end of the term so she could get some closure while I continued with contract work after I had spent so much time cultivating those relationships.

3.Talk About It

Maybe not everyone is like me, but I have spent many a day with empty pockets, walking past open sewage (an occasional dead rat or bat) and rubbish, to pick my child up from a friends house and avoid being hit by a speeding car grumbling to myself- is this it for us? will I be working 10 hour days for the rest of my life to sent my kid to a shitty school, contract out childcare and live in urbanized cesspool just to cling to the underside of middle-class? never even hoping to payback my student loan or contribute to an RRSP? If so whats the point? besides, my life is pretty good in the grand scheme of things so can I even complain?!

I have to talk to friends who have much more positive thoughts than me- for obvious reasons.

4. Ask for Help

No one is an island. Especially in situations like these. It was an incredibly humbling experience to have to ask so many friends for help and then again we would never have had the opportunity otherwise to be as close to our friends as we are now with out living with them, eating with them and depending on them while our privileges and finances quickly dropped away. I automatically knew the family members here in Dhaka I could count on for lunch if my pay was late or if I was stuck in traffic to pick R up from school, they would ask me for impromptu sleepovers when they saw I was overburdened and made us dinner when I didn’t have time, gave me medical advice when I had a cough that wouldn’t go away. This is truly the most wonderful thing about being an expat. I mean learning about a new culture and country is nice too ;)

We will leave on Thursday and I feel deeply saddened and overwhelmed with thankfulness to leave our family here who have supported us through a very difficult time.