A Northern Bangladesh Santal Wedding

Santals are, along with the Garo and Chakma, one of the biggest of the thirty or so tribes living in Bangladesh. In India and surrounding countries they add up to around six million. In Bangladesh they number around two hundred thousand.

Many follow tribal, animistic or Hindu-based religions but a good number are Christian. It was the Christian (mostly Catholic) missionaries during the Colonial period who actually gave the Santals an alphabet to write with. Before that, Santali was entirely an orally transmitted language. Bizarrely, this means I can read this difficult language more easily than I can Bangla as the alphabet used is Roman rather than Sanskrit-influenced. Conversely, Santals pick up English pretty well.

In the Dinajpur area where we live, close to the border of the West Bengal part of India, there are many Santals. It’s no surprise then that most of my close friends are Santals and we’ve been to many Santal weddings over the last five years. My own adopted daughter is Santali and it still breaks my heart that she lives far away now, two years after her wedding. I miss her.

“…all the guests…chase each other with the yellow stuff…”

Recently, we went to another Santal wedding and, after the cross-cultural one I shared with you recently, I thought I would write it up as a post here to serve as a contrast.

The day started with the wedding in the Church building in the LAMB compound – an hour later than it was supposed to start! This is typically Bengladeshi and I didn’t even get changed into nicer clothes until over half an hour later when Thing II popped out and told me “people were beginning to turn up”!

After the service many went on to the bhoj, the feast, but we were invited to the bou bhat, the feast that happens the next day. With the infamous gaye holud (literally yellow body)- where the bride is smeared in turmeric paste by all the guests who then go on to chase each other with the yellow stuff – the night before, weddings are never a one-day affair here!

The next day, we went to the bou bhat and paid respects to the newly married couple before being led to a tent to eat our meal. In the main area the couple sat, while musicians play all day long – and all night! These events are wonderful to attend. Everyone dances, everyone has fun. If you’ve only ever been to a Western-style wedding you just can’t imagine how it is and if you ever get the chance to visit Bangladesh try to get yourself invited to a wedding. You have to experience it.

Father and daughter eagerly awaiting our curry!

“it is good to be able to take a moment to rejoice with others over a new life”

We finished our meal and, eventually, headed home to get out of the heat and out of nice – but hot – clothes. Before we managed though, a good Santal friend came round wanting to photo with her and Thing I. I’ve included it here because it happened on the same day. Another thing you get used to with Bangladeshis is that your door is always open, at any time, to guests. You never know when someone will just pop round to visit. Likewise, you can pop round to them any time you like and usually expect to be well treated and even better fed.

Well away from the horrors of Savar and the troubles of Shahbhag (but, in this poor and under-developed area, never far from misery and pain of other sorts) it is good to be able to take a moment to rejoice with others over a new life for two young people and the hope that every wedding should bring.

Thing I and a very good Santal friend of mine

 

Related articles

• A Very Special Wedding (justathirdculturekid.wordpress.com)
• When the Swedish Blonde walked into my life (kenthinksaloud.wordpress.com)
• Finding woman alive lifts Bangladesh rescuers (news.yahoo.com)
• A Very Special Wedding (kenthinksaloud.wordpress.com)
• Blogs shut down, Bloggers arrested, Bangladesh in crisis (kenthinksaloud.wordpress.com)

The Garment Factory Incident

Reblogged from justathirdculturekid:

I apologize for this being so late. I have been meaning to write for ages, but never got around to it. Then I had some technical malfunctions and was unable to get onto my site. For the last week I have had a terrible terrible virus that seems to be known as ‘writer’s block’. I shudder at the thought of it ;)

Read more… 269 more words

My daughter - lovingly referred to as Thing I on this blog - writes as Amory Powell on her own blog. Here she felt the urge to express the emotion we all feel about the Savar tragedy as poetry. I found it very moving and trust you will too.

A Very Special Wedding

March 23rd 2013 was a special day.

It was special in Britain because the weather did something rather odd – it went back in time.

More accurately, the weather seemed to give up being Spring and decided that Winter was a much better idea.

Coincidentally, that happened to make the wedding of two of our friends rather special as it was also the day of their wedding and the world became as white as the Bride’s dress. The snow lay thick enough in Oxford, UK to cover everything in a thick, beautiful blanket but not so bad that guests and the wedding couple themselves couldn’t make it to the church.

For Thing I and I, it was a very special privilege even if we were feeling the cold rather a lot. We’d only been back in the country for a handful of days just as Bangladesh began its hot season in earnest. I left Asia wearing shorts and entered Britain in multiple jumpers and a coat!

I was very proud of Thing I looking beautiful in a red and green saree having been asked to be one of the bridesmaids. She’s growing up so fast, I’m astonished at the fine young woman she is becoming and scared about what happened to my baby girl. Where did she go, all of a sudden?

I was also proud to be the Best Man for the Groom. Although he has many good friends who could have done the job considerably better,  it was a privilege for Wifey and I to  see the relationship between these two blossom and guide them on their way to becoming man and wife. Although we couldn’t afford for all of us to come back to the UK (it was financially crippling for two of us to come at all, to be honest) we made the commitment for two so that we could be there right at the end of this adventure.

And what an adventure that has been.

My friend was one of the Bangladeshi doctors working at LAMB (a home-grown boy who has spent his whole life here) when a certain young lady, a British doctor with a Sri Lankan background, came to visit. I won’t delve into the details but a friendship grew and the two kept in touch through the internet.

Anyone who knows the both of them know how perfectly suited they are to one another and the two of them realised the same thing as they corresponded. Last year, in May, she returned to Bangladesh and after a period of days together, chaperoned by Wifey and myself, they announced their engagement.

Again, I won’t go into essentially private details, but the road to the altar was not smooth and straight though the determination of the happy couple and their love for one another never wavered. There were battles and disappointments as some people struggled with the idea of their cross-cultural relationship. A bigger fight though was with the visa application forms to allow the marriage to take place at all. I saw those forms and I think it is a miracle anyone from outside the UK marries anyone from inside. By the time they collected various evidence from banks and the like and handed it in, it was considered ‘out of date’ and requested all over again.

Immigration services are, I believe, run by sadists.

Nevertheless, ten months on and mountains of paperwork later they were both in the same country and ready to become Mr & Mrs. They had battled all their enemies and won.

After that, I maintain they both had it easy. As long as they both turned up at the right church everyone else did the real work! I got the Groom there easily but whoever looked after the Bride didn’t do quite so well – thirty minutes later we were still waiting and I was ready to take the two of us across the road to the rather nice-looking pub opposite with orders for someone to “texts us when she turns up!” But I resisted and, looking beautiful, turn up she did.

Of course, no one worked harder than me that day.

I was given the rings to look after until the minister called for them. You can see me on one of the shots checking I still had them – something I must have done over one hundred times before and during the service. Despite shaking hands, I managed to deliver them to the man in the frock without the ignominy of launching them into space first.

Then I had to read the a Bible passage in Bangla (Revelations – never an easy book even in English) when I knew there were more than a dozen people present who would know just how awful my pronunciation was.

I was also given the duty of ‘Master of Ceremonies’ calling people to attention at the right times. I have to admit, with my wedding in with all the weddings I’ve attended since, I’ve never paid attention to what MCs do or say, so I did what I do best in such situations:

I faked it.

I reasoned that as long as I sounded confident and looked like I knew what I was doing, no one would be any the wiser.

Finally, at the reception at a local restaurant, I gave my speech. I love giving presentations and after-dinner speeches but, for some reason, hate Best Man speeches. I’m hopeless at them at least in part because I can’t tell a joke for toffee. I’ve seen more blank stares and looks of horror during my (few) Best Man speeches than I’ve experienced in twenty-one years of teaching grunts in the classroom (though I’ve had a few there too).

Annoyingly – but also brilliantly – after getting through my speech without too many groans and gasps of horror from the guests, Holly’s father (who just does not look old enough to be her dad) got up and gave a fantastic speech ‘off the cuff’. He had us in stitches and moved us with his loving words for Holly.

How do people like him do it? It’s very upsetting.

Anyway, ‘that was the day that was’ and two days later, my daughter and I were on a plane back to hot and humid Bangladesh. Within the week I had shown the family of the Groom all the hundreds of wedding photos I’d accumulated. Trying to transport a family of rural-dwelling Bangladeshis to Oxford was never going to be an option so they had to settle for a rather poor substitute in me. Nevertheless, the beams on their faces told me just how delighted they were.

It was a happy and long-awaited day.

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Our Final Pohela Boishakh – Bangladesh Culture at its best

It’s been a few weeks since Bangladesh celebrated its new year but I wanted to give you a little photo tour of how we celebrated it at LAMB and also a little bit of the history behind the national celebration.

It’s all a little confusing how Pohela Boishakh began and records or shaky but most authorities seem to agree it was probably the Muslim emperor Akbar who instituted the idea of the modern-day new year’s day for Bengal. The date is a subtle combination of the Islamic lunar year and the Bengali solar year. While city dwellers and governments happily used the Julian calendar, the rural people (then, as now, in the majority) tended to base their year on the harvest cycle of the land instead.

The problem was, in Akbar’s time, this meant the collection of taxes didn’t fall during the crop harvest and so many poor people suffered unnecessarily. The re-institution of Nobo Borsho (new year) at the beginning of the Boishakh month (around mid-April) when the crops are traditionally harvested meant taxes could be collected at an opportune time. The idea proved popular with the people.

Traditionally, singing, processions, and fairs mark the day; businesses start this day with a new ledger and clear the old. One of the great things about this festival is that it doesn’t matter what your religion or status is. All people from all walks of life celebrate this time reflecting on the simpler, rural roots of Bangladesh.

At LAMB, we begin by meeting on the school field where later on the fair and onusthan (celebration) will take place. The tradition is to wear red and white – especially the ladies who always look incredibly beautiful for the occasion. The party begins when the hired band strikes up. We march, sing, dance through the whole compound before then heading out on to the streets, celebrating all the way down to our nearest village compound where a period of frenzied dancing takes place before we all head back to LAMB school’s field to continue dancing.

After that comes the traditional ‘wet’ fish curry, as everyone lines up to get their plate of curry and eats open-air around the field. This year, though, my family and I went to the home of some friends to eat instead so we missed much of it. In the afternoon the stalls open up for business and soon after the concert programme begins.

This year saw some amazing talent. Alas, my sitar rendition of Raga Bilabo was rather weak as it was far too hot and the instrument continually lost its tuning. I managed but if, in future, I play again it will be at the end of the concert as the sun goes down!

I was more than outclassed though, by Japanese music played beautifully by an oriental visitor and by the girlfriend of Thing I who is also one of my students. She and another girl played tampuras and sang a traditional song which is part-improvised. I can’t describe how electrifying their performance was but the singing was impressively skilful  I sat transfixed as I listened to these very young girls making professional quality music. In a country where girls are often treated as second-class, I get especially excited when intelligent, beautiful and artistically skilled girls are able to flourish. LAMB abounds in them.

A ‘father-daughter’ moment during the Bengali New Year

A good time, as always, was had by all but it is with great sadness I report on the event because, as regular readers know, this is my last one. I will miss events like this, especially considering the recent garment factory tragedy and violent events in the country, because they remind me that Bangladesh is – first and foremost – a land of great beauty, culture, art and music. A land to be treasured and valued. I’m so glad that this year’s Pohela Boishakh reminded me so perfectly of this. I am truly grateful.

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Happy Birthday Kenthinksaloud!

Today I came on to WordPress to find a nice little surprise. The good folks at wordpress.com told me today is the second birthday of this little blog.

Aww…

And my, how it – and I – have changed.

This won’t be a long trawl through memory lane – after all the blog is only two and not twenty! But I do want to say a few things in honour of the occasion.

First I want to thank the several hundred followers – some bloggers, some private individuals – who read this blog faithfully time and again, leaving comments, pressing the ‘like’ button and sharing on their own blogs or sending links to Facebook and Twitter.

When I started this blog I knew it would be something of a speciality subject. How many people out there would really want to read about some British guy who had dragged his family halfway around the world to live in Bangladesh?! I had one hundred followers and one thousands hits per month as my main goals  - plus great excitement at the possibility I might have readers in one hundred countries one day. Kenthinksaloud quickly surpassed all three goals (several times over in the case of followers) and, these days, I don’t even keep close tabs on the traffic (oh okay, perhaps one eye on the statistics). All I know is: lots of you read this blog and lots of you return again and again from over all over the place. It is all very humbling.

Secondly, I want to thank the extra-special readers who didn’t know me when I started all this two years ago but who have since become good friends. Quite a few have become very close friends and your love and support is greatly valued. Some have just been around so long I feel like I’ve known you all our lives! Though with the weird world of blogging being what it is, one or two are bloggers I know well but still don’t know their real names (are you listening Apple?! )!

Lastly, I want to thank my long-suffering family - Wifey, Thing I (AKA Amory Powell, as a blogger in her own write right, these days) and Thing II - who have supported me, albeit often with raised eyebrows and even the occasional “I’m not sharing that on Facebook!” Little did we know just how much time this blog would occupy (annoyingly) nor how it would lead, one way or another, to getting a novel written and accepted for publication (nicely). Now I just await the notice of an agent…

And I guess there is just one other thing I have to say about the last two years on board WordPress. How come, after nearly two hundred posts and faithful blogging throughout all this time, the good boys and girls at WordPress STILL continue to ignore me and have never ‘freshly pressed’ me. I wouldn’t say it is a goal for the future or anything – any more than you can say winning the national lottery is one.

But it would be nice.

My birthday mug shot – not my best picture or joke but there you go…