Dear Mom...

It is now very late on my 4th day in Dhaka, Bangladesh. I have attempted to write this paragraph for over two hours now, yet struggle to find the words.

It is not that I am searching for ways to describe my experiences and thoughts, rather that I find myself overwhelmed with ideas, memories and emotions to impart.

Perhaps then the simplest way to convey my feelings is also the most important one;

Dear Mom,

Thank you for everything; your love, your support, your strength.
Thank you for your harshness, your truthfulness, your integrity.
Thank you for your wisdom, your guidance, your sweetness.
Thank you for your values, your ideas, your ideals.

Were I to meet this fate life has laid before me with any measure of success, it would not through my own honour, strength or courage; rather dear mother, it would be by yours.

These 4 days have reminded me of what matters most in this world; Giving. Whether Love or Truth, Giving is the essential ingredient to happiness.
I am under no illusions; living here will be one the greatest challenges I have faced. Yet the need here outways any personal discomfort I may have.



Yesterday my colleague and I stood outside a store while the remainder of the Australian Youth Ambassadors were shopping for essentials. We were surrounded by over a dozen street children, most essentially naked, some with injuries, some with bruises, all hungry and poor. Yet the life in their eyes, their banter with me in my very limited Bengali, and their bravery in life reminded me of why I came here, why doing this work matters more to me than anything else...

It's funny I say that... I am at times such a materialistic person, so attached to my comfort zone, so "westernised", for want of a better word... and yet, being here feels at once so familiar and yet so alien, so comfortable and yet so unsettling.

So I finish this rambling of thoughts with again: Dear mom; I'm here, I'm OK, thank you for everything you have done in life to allow me the opportunity to be here.



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