A Tribute

 

Her life hasn't been easy.  Ajina grew up in village in northwestern Bangladesh.  When her father died her mother couldn't support all the children so she sent Ajina to work as a domestic servant for a family in Dhaka.
                             She was barely 8 years old at the time. 
 Although she had to work hard, she was one of the fortunate ones -----this family did not abuse her as many of them do.  But Dhaka was several hours from her village home so she got to visit her family just once a year.   When she was 12 years old a marriage was arranged with a young man named Shajahan. There was no work for him in Dinajpur so, like many others, he moved with his new beau (bride) into the city of Rajshahi.

Like many other poor, landless people they squatted on government property on a narrow strip of land between the road and a rice field. They erected a simple dirt-floor home out of bamboo and plastic bags.  All three children were born there.

To eek out a living, Ajina's husband rented a van-gari (like a rickaw except with an open platform on the back) and used it to collect and sell paper, tin, glass, and plastic. He earned about 200 taka ($2:50) a day---barely enough to feed them and not enough to pay rent for a home.

Ajina has been resourceful and hard-working, determined that her children wouldn't learn the wild ways of many of the neighboring bosti (slum) kids.   She dreamed of a better future for her two sons and one daughter -especially that they would some day go to school.  

 I met Ajina one day as I was walking near her neighborhood. I had stopped to watch the slum-dwellers from across the pond, hesitant to go closer but curious about their lives. They have a reputation of being thieves and addicts,  lazy and dirty. But Ajina's warm friendly smile drew me closer.  That day was the first of many visits to that community.

  I was impressed with Ajina's ability to maintain cleanliness in such squalid conditions.  She needed a job and I needed a helper in my house so, against the advice of my neighbors, I hired her to work for 3-4 hours a day. She's been a faithful, trustworthy worker and has taught me so much about pressing on in difficult circumstances.

She fought for her firstborn son to be able to get an education, and now she proudly sends him off each morning, hair combed and uniform cleaned.

One day Ajina's family was told that the their house would be demolished in 48 hours..it was government railroad property and they needed that space for a warehouse.

She searched up and down the streets for a possible place to move to and eventually found a tiny brick structure in a walled plot of land not far from the bosti.  Finally the children would have a safe place to play, far from the wheels of speeding busses. They would even have a bit of  dirt to grow some vegetables in.

When Ajina's relatives came to visit over Eid holidays they admired her new home...it's nicer than any of them have in the village.  Now if you saw this place you,  like myself, would probably have a hard time even imagining living there.  But to them it is a castle.

I have so much to learn about gratitude and contentment.

So,  here's to all the Ajinas in this country---the child-servants and child-brides whose childhoods were cut short,

the mothers who work ceaselessly and sacrificially to care for their families,

                        

                        May your children rise up and call you    blessed.