I had been delayed in Customs while explaining why I was carrying 100 pounds of medical supplies but was not a doctor. So when the taxi arrived in downtown Dhaka, near the main railway station, at the Hotel Sea Land, it was 4 a.m. I was welcomed graciously and not allowed to carry my bags, which were immediately whisked upstairs by porters. It was the start of a very friendly stay at the hotel, which is owned by Maji's father. Bangladeshis are very accommodating and treat guests with the utmost respect. I could walk downstairs and sit in the lobby at any time and be treated to smiles and conversation with the staff, patrons, or any of Maji's many friends or relatives that were around. At a word, someone would run next door to the restaurant for some food and drink, or hail a cab or rickshaw. It impressed me that every morning, as soon as I started to make noise in my room, one of the staff in the hallway would run downstairs and within minutes I would receive a call asking if I would like some breakfast brought up with coffee or tea.

After a couple hours of sleep I met with Sensei in the morning and we went to work immediately, taking stock of the medical supplies and arranging to bring them to the Dharmarajika Orphanage. The Venerable Suddhananda Mahathero is the chairman of the orphanage and the high priest of the associated Buddhist monastery. That first morning we met with him and the General Secretary, Mr. Sunil Barua, and the Superintendent, Bidar Son Barua. They took us on a tour of the facility which houses, feeds and schools 500 boys. They also provide schooling there for an additional 220 boys and girls that live locally with their families. Dharmarajika is an oasis in the city, literally. The complex is very large, and immediately inside the gates you leave the noise and bustle of the city to find a huge, rectangular, palm lined reservoir. We attracted lots of attention from the children (some playing outside and some seated in classrooms) as our little procession made it's way around the grounds to the medical treatment room. We met with the two doctors, the nurse, two attendants, and one manual assistant that were there as volunteers to keep the children healthy with care and with the supplies they had in a small standing cabinet. They were all very thankful for the AHAN donations that tripled their amount of supplies. Sensei asked for a list of other items they might need that would have to be obtained through a doctor.

As we continued our tour of the grounds and saw where the orphans lived and studied, Sensei asked what else they might need that AHAN could help with. They showed us the small kitchen where three staff members worked to make food for the 500 boys in their care and told us that it would be nice to have a new roof over it. As we sat and enjoyed tea with our hosts, they told us that they have an area where they will install all of the donated computers together, but that they need some help finishing construction.

I felt fortunate to be there and to meet everyone involved in not only keeping the place running, but planning expansion, such as for the computers. The Center had been there for many years and Venerable told us how they used to be able to buy vegetables nearby, but were no longer able to because the city of Dhaka had grown around them and there was no longer any close land for local farming. In fact the place itself had been built on high ground, but as the city grew and grew upon itself they were now relatively low and flooding was actually a problem during the rainy season. With that perspective of time I was impressed that so much was done for so many children (generations) and that it was all maintained through the good will of people. Their kitchen staff, guards, and medical staff total 15 people that rotate with others around different areas of Dhaka. It is supported with these volunteers, with donations, and with the help from organizations like AHAN. It was an honor to participate so closely with what was going on and to contribute to their success. Just being there made you want to help out!

That afternoon we visited Old Dhaka which, as the name suggests, was the city center before the rise of the modern buildings, cars, or other forms of mass transit. It was the hustle and bustle of Dhaka condensed into a smaller scale. The roads were so narrow that you could almost jump from one side to the other. Cars wouldn't fit, so two-way traffic was limited to pedestrians and bicycle rickshaws grazing each other and vying for space in the tight quarters. Traffic in countries like Bangladesh (and India and Nepal) has to be seen and experienced to be believed. I really think that you need to be raised within the system in order to function well in it. What always amazes me from my Western perspective of order (and rules, road paint, and traffic signals), is that the whole thing is a pattern more closely approximating a stream than a city street. Individuality seems to dissolve into an organic process not unlike a circulatory system. You can almost feel the indirect connection and understanding between people. It's blending on a grand scale, with heavy machinery, and they pull it off all day, every day. I have yet to see an accident, a fist, or a finger.

In Sensei's search for an AHAN project that would benefit local orphan girls, we were brought the next day to a madrasah in the Kathal Bagan area in Dhaka. Sensei and I, Maji, and his sister Shanto visited there. The founder, Khandkar Asad, used his own funds (he is a landlord) to set up a non-profit school for poor boys and girls in the area. It is an Islamic education center and so it teaches the Koran to 50 children there for an hour and a half every morning before they go to a local school. It is always taught in the original language of Arabic, and the students start by learning the alphabet and then grammar. The third stage is the memorization of the Koran itself, all thirty chapters! This is a task that not every Muslim accomplishes, but normally takes at least 3-4 years. I was impressed by this and compared it to the memorization of the Bible! I wondered how the world would be different if everyone memorized their religious text of choice, instead of selectively interpreting it.

Maji told us that he brought us here because he sees this man, like Sensei, as a great philanthropist. Mr. Asad, he said, is very careful about where the donations come from in the Muslim community. He won't accept "dirty" money. Every Tuesday and Saturday evening after prayer he invites the public (there are usually 100-150) to meet with him for Faitili (my best guess at spelling). It is spiritual guidance, or an attitude of help towards mankind.

Of course, after touring the small school and meeting the children, we were invited to sit down and share tea and snacks. We heard more about the school and about future plans for an adult literacy program. Sensei shared about AHAN and it's objective of fostering humanitarian projects around the world. He made a donation to the school and then we moved on in our search for a girls' orphanage.

Maji was calling around and had his contacts searching for such a place, but it became apparent that a visit would have to wait until the next day. Sensei said that he wanted to see a traditional village and witness how people lived their day to day lives there. So we drove outside of Dhaka to Painam Nagar village, Sonargaon. Sonargoan means gold village and it dates back to the time of Sultan Esha Kha, 500 years ago. The ruins were interspersed with current day dwellings and shops. Life was going on all around. As we walked the old dirt streets, taking pictures of the crumbling edifices of centuries old buildings, I looked across and saw a group of students pointing and taking pictures….of me. I thought that the weirdest thing was these neglected buildings that seemed to have been transported from old Europe, but I was wrong. Right then and there I was the weirdest thing. I waved and that was everyone's cue to move in around me and use their English. "Hello". "How are you?". "Where you from?". They were all smiles. After a couple of words I made an escape. It was not the last time that a 6'3" western white boy would draw stares, a crowd, or Kodak moments.

That night I was treated to dinner at Maji's home with his family. It was an excellent meal prepared by his sister Shanto and his mother's friend. His parents were there and I ate with him, his father, cousin, and brother-in-law. There were curries with vegetables, chicken, and mutton, all eaten with rice Bangladesh style (with your right hand). Whenever I travel, my goal is to get a peek into local culture, and I think the best way to do that is to hang out with the locals. It was a privilege for me to receive such hospitality. They truly made me feel like one of their family and I thank them all again!

The third day was our last and by far the busiest. It started with my return to Dharmarajika in order to meet with Venerable, the General Secretary, the Superintendent, and the head computer instructor. Despite the best efforts by everyone involved, on both sides of the world, the computer delivery was not going to occur during our visit. Bangladesh currently has a caretaker government and there is much internal "restructuring" going on. This is why, we were told, the Customs inspection and clearing process had taken even longer than normal. At the orphanage that morning I handed over the hardware and software necessary for installation of the operating system. They were once again very grateful and eager to set them up since Customs had given clearance and final delivery was expected soon.

Next I went with Sensei, Maji, and "the barber" on a search for the girls' orphanage. Since the culture and the orphanages take good care of boys, Sensei wanted to find and give support to any organization that helped orphaned girls achieve a better life and more options beyond domestic servitude or prostitution. Maji helped us find exactly that, and they needed help. The place was very destitute. It was founded in 1988, but there had been a fire in 2002 that destroyed the place, killing 8 girls. What exists now is a rickety looking structure made of corrugated metal supported with bamboo. We had trouble finding it at first since it is a low building in the brush just off the highway. When Maji got out of the taxi and walked across the rickety bridge to talk to someone, I thought he was asking for directions from someone in what looked like a makeshift house!

What we had found was the Jamia Islamia Ashraful Mohila (women) Madrasah and Atimkhana (orphanage). We introduced ourselves (they had no idea who we were or why we were there) and Sensei explained that we wanted to learn about the place and help out, if possible. We were invited into the small office, where we sat on the floor with the founder, Maolana Mohammed Abdur Rahman, and spoke to Mr. Mufti, one of the teachers. Five more of the staff sat silently watching this surprise encounter. The facility is run with donations, mostly given during the month of Ramadan. They are slowly rebuilding the school and a dormitory, but after these five years all that could be seen was the beginnings of a foundation and several dozen bags of concrete. Formerly they had housed 500 orphans, but now there was room for only 300. There are currently 330 girls of which 250 are residential, the others come in since they teach the Koran to orphans and locals. They have 50 teachers on staff, both women and men. A doctor is appointed for medical care. The girls are given schooling, health care, and help with marriage when they are grown (we were told the minimum age is 18, but most marry around 22).

Because of cultural sensitivity, we were not allowed to see the girls' rooms with them inside. So instead they surrounded us (some wrapped in bright colors, the ones over 12 in black burkas) smiling, giggling and wishing us "salaam!" as we toured the place. There were 10 rooms for the girls, which were used for study during the day (Korans were stacked on one wall) and sleeping at night (bright colored bedrolls were stacked on another). There was a generator and a small kitchen where an old man was making rice in a big pot, a never-ending task I'm sure, since that is their staple diet. Sensei made a generous donation and explained that many in the U.S. wanted to help those in developing countries, but did not know how. Specifically there was concern back home about what happened to orphaned girls in countries like Bangladesh. He mentioned that our original plan had been to set up computers at Dharmarajika today, and that it was fortunate for everyone that our plans had to be changed, since that was what allowed us to find this place! We were told that their most urgent need was for food and school supplies like paper and pencils. They also needed help in rebuilding.

After we thanked them for the visit and said our good-byes, we were traveling back into central Dhaka when Sensei said that he wanted to make a rice donation, today….right now. So we headed for the market where we of course caused a stir being the only foreigners around, and by arranging to buy 500 kilos of rice (1100 lbs!) to be delivered by truck that day. Especially interesting was a short man weighing in at no more than 110 lbs who was in charge of carrying each 80 kilo bag on his head from the vendor to the truck (about 100 yards away). Two men would help lift the 175 lb sack up onto his head and he would RUN with it to the truck. He did this six times, and then again at the orphanage for the delivery. We never saw him sweat.

We returned to the orphanage (again unannounced) with the rice, and if the teachers had been happily surprised before, now they were astounded. I imagine they were wondering who these foreigners were, dropping in, showing an interest in what was happening, donating money and huge quantities of rice! They received it gratefully, saying that it would feed everyone there 3 times a day for 2 days. Sensei pledged this amount to be delivered every month for 12 months. It would be managed and delivered by Maji, our Bangladesh coordinator. As we drove away the second time, Maji smiled and commented that the teachers had been speechless. I thought that the whole day was an incredible success. It was a great feeling to know that so many lives had just been changed for the better, and no one knew any of it this morning when they woke up, including us.

It had been a whirlwind tour, and the last 3 days felt like a week or more. As I sat on the airplane in the predawn darkness the next day I slowly merged back into my familiar surroundings and way of life. My senses had been blown open with the flurry of activity; with all the people we had met, the hospitality and gratitude we'd received, and with all the curious and excited children that sent out so much energy everywhere we saw them. My keiko gi never came out of my bag, but Sensei taught me more about Aikido anyway. Not everything had gone according to plan, and we seemed to be discovering our path as we walked along it. Nevertheless he worked with what we had and accomplished a successful AHAN mission, because many people's lives had been given meaningful improvement….including mine. I felt privileged to have participated directly, because no matter how far away I travel, physically and culturally, it seems as though I am always welcomed home when I get there. Many thanks again to everyone I met in Bangladesh!

Medicines requested by the doctors at the Dharmarajika Orphanage
Amoxicilin
Levofloxacin
Xoratidine (antihistamine)
Cefixime
Cefuroxime
Needles and needle holders for stiches
Suture material
Ext examination kit
Multivitamin A-Z
Calcium tablets
Inhalers
Clotrimazole (antifungal cream)
Grisofluvin (antifungal cream)
Anti-hypertensive drugs
Albendazole and Menendazole (for worms)

This is my best guess at spelling. I have the original list that they wrote if it would be helpful to show to another doctor.