Frustrating (Day 1 Part 2)

I originally intended on doing one journal entry/ blog per day. However, unlike my trips to Haiti, I don't have a lot of people my age, from my culture, or even that can speak my language to talk to. So for tonight my journal and blog will be my outlet for a very frustrating encounter I had today.
This entry's title is a complete understatement really of how I truly feel about the situation: disgusted, so upset I felt sick enough to vomit, the list could go on and on.
This afternoon/ evening we were given the opportunity to visit the war memorial monument and garden in Savar. The whole area was very beautiful at first glance. We were able to take lots of pictures. We had even more Bangladeshi's taking pictures of us. Apparently our white skin stands out and its very popular to pretend that an American or European is your good friend by having a picture of them on your phone. (At least this means I will feel less bad about taking random pictures of all the Bangladeshi's I meet). It was quite a refreshing and odd experience to be the person on the other side of the camera during a trip like this one.
After successfully chasing off the slowly gathering mob of picture takers we began being followed by a little girl begging. She was just too adorable to say no to so my professor did finally cave and give her 2 taka (the equivalent to about 3 cents American). The little girl turned out to be only one of many children begging in the park. So quickly we had to assume our authoritative, stoic faces and with our hands held in a stop manner kept implying "No! Leave us alone!" As we left the garden we saw a boy, probably no older than 8 (although with prominent stunting here due to malnutrition it is very difficult to guess ages) lying on the ground begging for money. This beggar was unique and much more difficult to see than the rest. His legs were covered in burns and what appeared to be very serious contractures. Realizing that this boy needed and deserved medical attention I tried to stop Maureen (who too at first was very concerned), Maxine (the Belgian college student who had been living here for 4 months already), and Jeremy (the young french photographer). Maxine explained to Maureen (who relayed to me as Maxine quickly searched for a bus for all of us) that there was nothing we could do. In a not exactly polite tone I inquired "Well aren't we staying at a medical compound?!?" However, the underlying social issues surrounding this case were much more difficult to face than the nasty burns themselves. It turns out many of these children are not begging for themselves but are controlled and used as ploys to make more money to give to the adults that keep them enslaved in a hellish life of begging and poverty. The boy did not crawl to that spot and start begging after a freak moto or fire accident. No, he was purposefully (if one can even use that word for such horrible action) put there after being burned, injured, and scared on both his legs and head. He was placed on the main path leading into the monument's garden where many would see him and give him money out of pity. I was informed that even if we helped him this week it was very likely he would wind up getting re-injured and placed back in his exact same spot/ role.
I couldn't accept this child's fate passively. I was furious. A series of questions laden with some not so polite words were projected at Maureen (wonder if this will count as "speaking up" towards my class participation grade for my global health class... oh well I will suffer the consequences later). How could we just let him lay there and do NOTHING for him?!? The calm response about health disparities and the need for long term work/ change was the last thing I wanted to hear. I wanted to do something now. I felt like a hypocrite coming to Bangladesh for a celebration on public health and human rights and then passing over this boy. Deeming his situation too challenging and the social inequalities that created this horrible health outcome for an innocent child too deep. Looks like Slumdog Millionaire stories hold some truth to them.
What I hated most about the situation was that after some time pondering I realized in a way that Maureen was right. This was yet another acute on chronic problem (to use the words of Paul Farmer). And the acute issues would never be settled if the chronic part remains ignored.
The issues of child abuse are problematic in the US where we have extensive medical, social, and governmental services dedicated to trying to prevent and cure this filthy social disease. Gonoshathaya Kendra is an amazing facility that produces talented physicians, paramedics (the equivalent to our PA's), and community health workers. However, other NGO's quickly snag them because they can pay them more. Or some leave for more developed countries (known in the public health realm as the brain drain). So GK remains understaffed and underfunded to tackle all the problems of Bangladesh. The chronic problem does not receive enough resources. The acute problems remain left alone by foreigners only visiting for a week because they understand that long-term investment is needed to ensure these children don't wind back on the streets.
It breaks my heart to know that I did nothing for this boy. And that he is surrounded by a corrupt system that prevents me from doing so. I know I shouldn't blame myself because it's not my fault he was placed on that sidewalk but sometimes guilt is a hard emotion to push away. Some may blame my first sleepless night here on jet lag, others on the relentless mosquitoes. All I know is after a day like today I won't be getting much shut-eye tonight...