my dad was right

My dad always tells me that Dhaka is not what I should think of when I think of Bangladesh because thats really not what the country is, or how most of the country lives. I always nodded along in agreement but I never really understood its true meaning until today. What I saw today was the real India and I was left with no words.

A potential American volunteer, a gujarati couple from the States, a woman from Niramaya, and I went to a baldwadi (pre-school camp) where we watched 3-5 year olds get there daily dose of vitamins and meds. They were so cute!! On our way out our van got stuck in a hole and had to be pushed out of the mud while everyone in the community came running over to watch. There's always something. Soon enough we headed over to the Baiganwaldi clinic where they treat the slum children from the area. It's a small room with a bit of open space and three desks. With the amount of children visiting every day (35-100), the space is definitely too small to accomodate these kids. After a few minutes, we walked over to a school where six boys individually told us their life stories. Most of them dont know where their parents are, are orphans, and work from 6 am to 11 pm each day. One child said that he makes 50 rupees a week while working 17 hours a day at a sweatshop. The owners barely feed the children, they give them a snack (a samosa) and some lentils and rice. All of that, just to earn a little over a dollar for the week. I felt so horrible while they were talking about their lives...the American medical student generated a lot of excitement as the kids get really happy to see a caucasian person. Then we walked over to a sweatshop but had to wait downstairs while our guide went up to tell them that we were coming. Apparently there have been a lot of raids and they are scared of the police. The steps to get up to the sweatshop were scary...after climbing them, what I saw made me feel awful. A bunch of young boys were lined up and attaching sequins to a sari, they do all of the work, and then we go out and buy these things that took hours and hours of child labor to make. It makes me never want to buy one of these outfits again.

We went to a dumping ground where little children are rag pickers and spend all day sorting through garbage piles. It's awful....I'll finish this post later. I saw way too much today to be able to process all of this right now...