Crazy (Day 1)

Possibly an odd first adjective to choose when describing the trip experience or Bangladesh in general. However, this word has passed through my mind quite a few times both leading up to the trip and during our travels and first day in Bangladesh.
A woman working in my lab used the word crazy to first describe me in fact when she heard I was coming here to Bangladesh only a month after traveling to Haiti. Yes, as an undergrad student trying to plan out where she will begin med school this fall, possibly I had too much going on in my busy American student style life to hit pause and escape for a week and a half to Bangladesh. I am sure for a woman who likes a routine work 9-5 Monday - Friday lifestyle a love for global health and a willingness to set aside a week and a half of one's "regular" "normal" life would seem a bit crazy.
Last night in the Abu Dhabi airport the word came up again. My professor (and only travel mate) made me pause and look around. She questioned: "Kristen, what do you notice that seems odd about this situation?" I couldn't put my finger on it at first. The security line ahead of us was rather short and the security guards didn't make us take off our shoes going through the screening (perhaps more a relief to them - who knows how bad our feet smelled at hour 20 of travel). Then the stares provided a helpful hint. The Bangladeshi men waiting in line with us weren't staring at us because we were the only Americans in the terminal. They were staring because we were the only women in the line. In fact, we were among only a handful of women on the entire flight (a very large international one). And we were most certainly the only women traveling without male accompaniment. This was due to our flight from Abu Dhabi to Dhaka being an overnight one. Women in this part of the world are not allowed to travel by themselves at night. The male dominated culture continued to grow more apparent as we filled out our customs forms. Directly below my name I had to list my father or husband's name. So once again - to the males sharing our flight and to probably most people in this region - my professor and I seemed crazy (or at least culturally very, very! different).
In the mad rush outside the airport my professor and I luckily found a cab driver who spoke English and knew somewhat where the GK medical center was in Savar. Or at least for 1,000 taka he pretended to (we only got lost twice). The horn-honking, accident-inevitable traffic that surrounded me on the ride to Gonoshasthaya Kendra was strangely calming. It gave me flashbacks to riding through the streets of Porte au Prince and served as a happy reminder that I was indeed far from the states and in an underdeveloped country - exactly where I wanted to be. The craziness of dodging Bangladeshi versions of tap taps, people darting across the street, people pedaling with enough wood on their rick shaws to practically build a small house - all of this seemed much more exciting and less stressful than the typical bumper to bumper traffic found in the states. (A word of advice to the Bangladeshi's though - No constantly honking your horn will not magically make the cars and trucks ahead of you suddenly disappear out of your way. And why spend money on traffic lights when nobody follows them anyways? Perhaps that money could be better spent on seat belts?) Sorry, back to my original thought process:
Finally after 45 minutes of well-embraced crazy driving and only getting lost twice (due to some translation error of course) we finally arrived to the beautiful GK compound. For my friends who have traveled to Haiti, GK compound is to Mahalia's compound and the Haitian countryside as Dhaka is to Porte au Prince. Needless to say my professor and I (especially our lungs) were quite excited to escape the burning garbage and crammed together buildings to come to this beautiful compound surrounded by tropical trees, rice paddy fields, and much easier to breathe air.
What's crazy about this compound is as I toured it this morning I couldn't help but think how such a large, organized infrastructure surrounded by beautiful land built to supply the group with the food they needed could exist just outside one of the most densely populated (and in my mind one of the most highly polluted) cities. Especially a compound partially run and founded by women in a region where women are typically seen as inferior and not allowed to travel by themselves.
So as I begin my little adventure in Bangladesh I am embracing the so-called "crazy." I feel very blessed to be able to go on these crazy global health adventures, and even more blessed to come from a place that allows me to travel half way across the world as a woman traveling with just one other woman. Already I have seen some of the same public health needs in Bangladesh that I saw on my trips to Haiti. I know in my heart that far fewer of these needs would exist if more people embraced the "craziness" of a passion for global health (or at least if more people understood that the right to health should be seen as a basic human right). So I hope that I never stop being "crazy." And I hope that the amazing Bangladeshi women who I have met at the GK compound never stop being "crazy" either. The world of public health and the world in general would thrive much better if there were just a few more "crazy" people willing to join us.