My Bengal of Gold,
I love you.
Forever your skies,
Your air set my heart in tune
As if it were a flute.
Husband of Mine found an interesting travel blog this morning to scratch my itchy travelling feet a little more. Fred has recently travelled to Bangladesh, a country that has a little piece of my heart, and encountered some difficult questions around poverty and inequity. It made me ferret around in the depths of my wardrobe to find a few of my not-very-good photos from the trip Husband of Mine and I made in 1995. Please excuse the photos of photos.
We, too, visited the prawn industry in the southern part of Bangladesh and met groups of men farming in co-ops. What is that boy in the background now doing eleven years on? Farming prawns? Is he a husband and father now? Did he make his way to Dhaka lured by the brights lights of the city?
Is he still living in a house like this?
Does his wife carry their child across a bridge like this one? (Does this even deserve the title of bridge?)
In my travels I was always drawn to the women and children. Sometimes it was difficult to get access to them but it was always such a humbling privilege to sit and talk with them. They were, without a doubt, always the catalyst for change in their communities. Mother-love is a very powerful motivator. 