I'm not sure if this is coincidence, luck or a pre-disposition to associate with people similar to myself, but I seem to know a bizarrely large number of July babies. Stav, the assistant country director of CARE Bangladesh, is one of them. For her birthday this year she threw a party - not for herself, but for the 20-some girls she volunteers with every week!
It was a two-day birthday extravaganza, with dinner, dancing, cake, and a sleepover at Stav's last Thurs (July 9) night, and yoga, french toast, nail painting, Bollywood movie watching, photo-taking and posing on Friday.
I remembered my camera for the second day and the photos are hilarious. I took maybe two of them. As soon as you take out your camera, at least six girls run at you at once - two to take it from you, three to pose for pictures, and one to watch.
I have uploaded a few below, removing the dozens they took of the Bollywood movie stars gyrating on tv, and the one they snuck of their 65 year-old caretaker taking a bath (sneaky little girls!). The photos are truly from the girls' perspective.
The party was a lot of fun. The girls were just as charming and funny as ever. Their personalities were out in full form! I got a good dose of reality too.. I've been wondering this whole time what happens to these girls when they leave their school. They're young – mostly 13 or younger. All 20 of them live, learn and play in a two-bedroom apartment that's smaller than Stav's apartment where she lives on her own.
From what Stav tells me, many of their families live in shanties similar to ones found throughout Dhaka (I described some of these in an earlier post). They are not entirely on the street, but you would be hard-pressed to call where they live a “house.”
Somehow they end up at this school which, though quite small, is considerably nicer than what their parents are able to provide them. They spend a couple years there and when they reach about 15 years old, most of them return to their families. A few of them – the ones who are very smart and have picked up a decent amount of English, may be able to pursue vocational training - one of the girls is in a junior nursing program.
What happens to the rest of them?
Some are married off, others become garment workers, and some become sex workers.
It’s hard to imagine that these girls who have pulled me in circles, fed me mango, painted my nails, drawn henna patterns on my hand, who have hugged me and kissed me and jumped on me and held my hand… these girls are destined for that fate. And here I sit, contemplating in front of my laptop, options that I have never had to consider.
What does that mean? What does that say?
I don’t know.
But, I will share them with you as they are now – happy little girls with 20 best friends.
Happy Birthday, girls!
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