Thanksgiving Day started out with doctor’s appointments for
both kids. That’s why we were in Dhaka, six hours by train away from home. We
were concerned that Abraham had a peanut allergy, and both kids needed to have
well check-ups. We were very grateful to get to meet with a child development
nurse who encouraged us that even if Abe does have a peanut allergy, it’s a
minor one, and he could outgrow it. They don’t think we should do allergy
testing until he’s older. We should also keep him away from peanuts until he’s
two. I can still eat peanut butter, but I have to switch to natural stuff,
instead of the yummy, creamy stuff I’m used to. Good news to start the day.
We were staying with some wonderful friends in Dhaka who
display the beautiful gift of hospitality in amazing ways. They have three
guest rooms, all filled while we were in town. And it was an unexpected
surprise that we would get to join them for Thanksgiving Dinner… for 41
people! We enjoyed chatting with many
people we don’t see very often, the kids made friends, and we ate scrumptious
food. It was the first time I’ve ever had turkey in Bangladesh.
The plan was that the driver for our hosts’ family would
take us at 10pm to the train station. We like to take the overnight train with
the kids as long as we can get in the sleeper cabin. It’s much easier to sleep
crammed into small beds with the kids than to try to contain them while awake
for six hours on a bus or train. On Thanksgiving we thought our train would
leave the closest train station to us at 10:45.
After all, that’s what it has always done.
Just before 10 Franklin started taking our bags downstairs
to the garage. I dressed Abraham in his pajamas and tried unsuccessfully to
wake Eliana up. We scooped both kids up and joined our friend Jacob who was
also planning to be on the same train with us. Unfortunately, we were all ready
to go, but the driver was not there. He had taken the car to drop someone who
lived just around the corner off, but instead of returning home, like he was
supposed to, he decided to go fill the car up with gas. This got him stuck in
the notorious Dhaka traffic. He did not arrive home from his excursion until
midnight, we found out later!
Luckily at around 10:15, some of our friends were leaving
the fantastic Thanksgiving gathering. They offered their car and driver to pop
us over to the train station, which as a bird flies is probably only about a
mile and a half away from where we were. Before we found out we were going to
be able to use their car, Jacob examined his ticket and realized that the train
should not be leaving the station until 10:57. Not feeling worried at all, with
our extra 12 minutes and the generous gift of a transportation option, we began
our journey at ease.
As we turned out of our friends’ street, the driver chose to
go the opposite direction than we would have opted to go. No big deal, though.
We had time.
Unfortunately, what we didn’t know was that the suburb we
were entering, that would take us to the main road we needed to get on, was
locked up for the night. To protect against thieves, all but one entrance is
blocked off. Our driver drove from one end of Banani to the other. We went down
a long road, because there seemed to be a guard ready to open the gate for
those who needed, only to find out that the guard was in fact a rickshaw puller,
just waiting for a bit of work. As we turned around, we realized that four
vehicles had been following us, also lost in the maze of streets trying to find
a way out. Finally our line of vehicles found the outlet, and we made our way to
Airport Road.
Once on Airport Road, things again appeared to be going our
way, that is until we were stopped with hundreds of other cars and trucks and
buses at a railroad crossing. For safety, it seems that they chose to put the
bar across ten minutes before the arrival of the little train. As I waited for
the traffic to slowly begin moving again, I asked Franklin and Jacob what time
it was and if we should have a plan B. The day before when we had been
traveling into Dhaka with Jacob he shared that someone had told him that to
live in Bangladesh, one must be extremely optimistic. So, with this necessary
optimism, Jacob and Franklin replied that we didn’t need a plan B, we had
plenty of time.
A few minutes later, we pulled into the train station. We
saw coolies ready to help us with our suitcases standing in front of the
station. We didn’t see our gray train waiting there, but the more common green
and tan train was waiting there. One of the men commented, “Our train isn’t
even here yet.” We opened the door to hurry to wait for our train, and the
coolies informed us that our train, in fact, had already left. We all hurriedly
closed our doors and informed the driver to quickly take us to Airport Station,
the next and last train station in Dhaka, which is situated across the street
from the International Airport. With luck, we could catch the train there, as
it would have to stand there for about 10 minutes.
Our driver started the journey, my heart was racing, but we
were fueled by optimism. The optimism lasted only a minute or two until the
next large intersection on Airport Road. Rather than using stoplights that
would be mostly ignored by the crazy Dhaka traffic, the vehicles at
intersections are directed by police. The policeman at our intersection decided
to let half of Dhaka travel through the intersection in front of us while we
waited. At this point I just laughed. I said, “If anything can go wrong for us,
it will.” Once again I asked the men if we should have a plan B. The idea of a
friend’s house with some spare rooms or the option of a night train was thrown
out, but we were still hoping against all odds to catch our train.
At this point, in my mind, I had two options. Clearly, no
action of mine would change the result of the situation we were in. So, I could
choose to worry and be frustrated. I, unfortunately, know this option very well
as it is a well-worn path in my head. Or, I could choose to be thankful. This
is a relatively new option to me, but as I have experimented with being
thankful over that last year since reading Ann Voskamp’s book, it has proven to
have very positive results. So, on this Thanksgiving Day, I appropriately chose
to be thankful. I did, after all, have so much to be thankful for, even at
that moment in the midst of uncertainty. So I mentally began my list… for the
two beautiful children asleep on Franklin and my laps, for transport to take us
to the train station, that my salvation is certain no matter what happens that
night, that we do have a plan B…. and on and on.
Eventually we got to the roundabout between the
International Airport and the train station. Wouldn’t you know it, the car in
front of us got to cross traffic into the train station, but the policeman
deemed it, that we needed to stop. I said to Jacob, who was in the front seat,
that he should tell the policeman that we would miss our train if he didn’t let
us go. Jacob proceeded to do that, and the policeman walked toward the oncoming
traffic. But he still let the traffic go. I thought to myself, “Well, we have
certainly been put in our place.” After a handful of cars and trucks went,
though, he did, mercifully, let us cross.
As we enter the chaos of the small, very overcrowded road
approaching the train station there seemed to be a million obstacles to
overcome before we would find out if we’d make our train or not. We had to go
around a van gari, we passed an accident, people crossed in front of us… All
the while we are discussing our strategy. Do we stay together as a group? Does
Jacob run ahead with his things and try to find someone who can stop the train
for us? Do I run ahead with Abraham because it’s hard to travel with a baby or
do we stay together as a family? There were lots of questions, but no answers
were verbalized.
Eventually we make it to the front of the train station. We
jump out. Our train is still at the platform! I have to find a way to grab the
pink sock that fell off of Ellie’s foot on the floor of the backseat while
having Abraham attached to me in a sling. Jacob rushes off and we move as quickly
as we can. A coolie puts our two big suitcases on top of his head. I rush after
him with Abe attached to me. Franklin comes behind with Ellie in his arms and a
couple small bags, too. Just as we get through the station onto the platform,
you guessed it, our train starts to move. Our coolie keeps running by the train,
I groan something to Franklin, and he mumbles something back, but I can’t
remember what exactly.
I kept chasing the coolie, everything around me a blur. The
train engineer/conductor was hanging off the caboose out the door. I made eye
contact with him, and I gave him the most desperate, pitiful look a mommy with
a baby attached to her while running on a train platform at 11 o’clock at night
in a foreign country with hundreds of people staring at her could. I’m sure it’s
a look that is universally understood around the world. In English I say, “Please,
please”. He screams, “Rajshahi?” The coolie, who has no idea where we are
going, I think, replies in the affirmative. And, wonder of wonders, the train official radios on a walkie talkie
to the guy in control of the train, and gets the train to stop!
In the mayhem I say to Franklin, “We have to get to the
other end of the train.” Our compartment is in the second train car, and this
is the end car. Ha! That’s not going to happen. We throw our stuff in the caboose
and join the most merciful railway employee in all of Bangladesh in his little
office area. I cannot contain myself, I’m thanking God, I’m trying to find a
culturally appropriate way to express extreme gratitude to this man, I’m
calming Abraham down who had been a bit disturbed by the running, screaming,
and climbing up the ladder to get on the train, and I just can’t believe we
made our train!
We settle down a bit. We put a mat that we had with us on
the floor and Ellie immediately conks out on it. Franklin and I sit ourselves
down on a metal trunk in the corner of the space. Abraham eventually calms down
and rests his head against my shoulder. A. H. Khan, as we could read on his
uniform, tells us apologetically that we will have to wait until the next stop,
about 45 minutes away, to switch to the beds where our tickets are for. Let me
tell you, that was not a problem. It was such a relief to have made our train,
I was willing to wait.
We chatted with the wonderful A. H. Khan and found out he only lives three
blocks from us in Rajshahi. He knows both where I used to teach English and
where Franklin’s music school is. We told him the whole story of our crazy
journey, too. After a nice chat, we finally got close to Joydebpur, where we
would make the transition to our compartment. Once again, apologetically, A. H.
Khan explained to us that it would be a lot of trouble for us. There would be
no train platform and no coolies. It would also be a long way to walk. He
thought Franklin should take two trips with the suitcases and told us he’d have
the train wait for us. Franklin said he could do it in one trip. A. H. Khan
then informed us that we didn’t need to hurry. We could walk as slow as ants,
and he’d have the train wait for us. Wasn’t that kind?!
So, we said our good byes and Franklin got off the train with
the suitcases. Let me just take a moment to explain that by “get off the train”
I mean “climb down a ladder with three or four rungs and then jump down the
last four feet to the ground”. We are,
after all, basically in the middle of nowhere. It’s at least 150 meters to the
actual station. After passing Ellie to Franklin, it’s my turn to get down with
Abe attached to my front. Let me tell you, it was not pretty. I think Franklin
was coaching me, and A. H. Khan, not realizing Abe was firmly attached to me
with a sling, kept telling me to hold on to the baby. When I didn’t obey him, because
my two hands were busy clinging to the railings on the side of the ladders so I
didn’t plummet to the ground with poor Abraham helplessly falling with me, he
started trying to grab Abraham to protect him from his careless mommy. :)
Anyway, we were eventually all on the ground. Franklin
walked ahead with all the bags. I walked behind with Ellie and Abe. We had to
walk on a grass path for a while, and then climb up onto the station platform,
and then off of the platform, across tracks, and then climb up into the train.
This time I took Abe out of the sling and passed him to Jacob, who had jumped
onto a different compartment of the moving train at Airport Station and also
had to wait to make the switch to the sleeper car at Joydebpur.
So, at about midnight we made it into our sleeper car,
adrenaline flowing through our bodies. We settled down and eventually laid down
for sleep, Abe and I on the top bunk, and Franklin and Ellie on the bottom.
After such an adventure, though, sleep took a while to arrive.
While I was laying there thinking, one of the many thoughts
that crossed my mind was that from my view, each time we had something go
wrong, it was one more barrier to getting us to the train on time. If we had
waited any longer for a car to take us, if we had made one more wrong turn in
Banani, if we had waited any longer in the jam to cross the railroad tracks, if
the policeman had waited one more second at the large intersections, we would miss
the train. God, on the other hand, had a different point of view. At just the
right second, He provided a car for us. Just in time, He guided us out of
Banani. At just the right time, the train passed and the cars started to move.
Just in the nick of time, the policeman stopped the other cars so we could go.
He knew the whole time that He was providing a way for us.
Guess what I was thankful for this Thanksgiving.
