Archive for the Experiences: Bangladesh Category

I Need Air

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on October 23, 2009 by Meta

          I promised my best friends to quit posting suicidal stuff, but it’s just too hard to keep that promise. It’s not like my best friend is not important enough to make me keep my promise, but all those promises are connected in a complicated way and that it turned out that I find it’s hard to keep my own words. I feel the need to break my promise. It seems to me that people around me seem to not even care about keeping their promises at all, formally and informally.

          Why do people never care to keep their promises? If they can’t do what they say, why do they keep saying? Maybe they want us to fit in their norms to survive in their societies, but how can we be obedient leaders?

          Sorry, I’m not that obedient. Don’t make me feel stupid and obedient because of the fact that I’m young. I’m old enough to know who says the truth, or what is dark and light.

          This paradox is just not what I want, or is that what they want? They create norms for me to obey, but they do not comply with their own rules. What’s the point?

          Do they want to push me to calm myself by saying Hello to heroine? To buy a rope to hang myself or to go back to the start when we both know my bridge was already cut?

          Everyone wants to get away from depression/ / suicidal blocks the way/ /cuts the wing/. It’s very common for people to understand that, but I still think that only the one who is in the box can feel the suffocation – the trap, but sometimes when I was trapped in a box, I was convinced that I had been experiencing living in the real world, and Yes! I was fooled by the beauty I saw through the box’s cells, but how could the box have cells?

           It was all an illusion to fool me. I almost never knew what I was in. I just knew that I couldn’t straighten my legs and my arms. I couldn’t stand straight. I felt like I was literally in a 1m3 box with a barbed roof. I was queasy and the dizziness made me nervous each time I heard a voice, because I knew the voice was going to lure me to pull my mouth up and smile to show that I was grateful with the place they provided and the promises they made, but I knew I was just a project – a mouse for an experiment.

           What could I do to make my voice be heard? They’d say, “What are you to me to ask for that?”

           I knew the price I was after was very vague. It was on the edge of promises that were never fully kept. I had lost my voice for 4 months; they shut me up. I didn’t need an invisible shield to hide me. I was already invisible and completely ignored.

          When I was not strong enough to stay mute, I barely spoke up. My stories sucked; they were vague just like my future, my novel was never written more than a few hundred words. I bet my writing mentor would suggest me to tell her the reason why she would need to take a look at my writings.

          All in all, my points were ambiguous, absolutely elusive. But I have to say it now because I’m afraid I’d lose my voice forever if I stayed shut down.

          I really need distractions – I need a lot of works to do to make me calm down; I just need to be busy with those works to be able to forget where I’m at. I was so confused that I didn’t even know I needed help.

          I’m not asking for a complete change in my condition, I want improvement. I know maybe I need 70% of the oxygen to stay healthy, and I know I might not be able to lose my breath when I get only 10% of the oxygen they have provided in the box – I know it’s not enough to kill me; and I know I’d be able to survive through that, but I need my heart to beat less than 200 beat per minute. Give me at least 40% of the overall oxygen that I need to breathe.

About Drug Addiction’s Report

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on June 25, 2009 by Meta

 

I didn’t know at first that I have been so involved in this issue. I have a lot of general knowledge about the causes and effects of drug addiction. I thoughteveryone would know, but it turned out that not everyone was able to access the prevention programs and the education about drugs.

 Nonetheless, there are many addicts almost everywhere. So I think this is actually related to some issues. For instance, there are not enough funds for this issue since people are focused onthe best project, HIV/AIDs Prevention. According to the article “The Great Funding Surge,” by Jon Cohen, the author quotes that Jeremy Shiffman believes that global health equity is significant. I strongly agree with Shiffman that not because others heath problems are less severe, they should be put out of the radar screen. All the small things do matter when people let it become bigger. Therefore, I feel inspired to do the report for Your Story website about drug addiction to contribute to this issue.

I’m so excited to have done what I always wanted to do. I was a little exhausted while I was doing the interview because I needed to go far away to get to the rehabs to interview addicts and I also spent a few times at the University of Chittagong, but I really enjoyed doing that.

The report was actually what I was thinking of doing. I asked the ones that I interviewed all the questions that I always kept in my mind for a long time. It was from my point of view and my curiosity about drug addiction in Bangladesh and then I started to realize that there are many differences between the popularity, usage, general knowledge, and the raising awareness programs of and about drugs in Bangladesh and Cambodia.

For instance, in Cambodia, there are many raising awareness programs, and most people understand the situation of drug abuse. When I was there, I was taught since primary to high school about the causes and effects of drugs. In contrast, in Bangladesh, drugs addiction remains as the elephant in the room. People sort of understand that this problem is happening, but they do not want to talk about it. One more thing is that Yaba is more common in Cambodia whereas Heroine is easier to get in Bangladesh.

I understood that people do drugs because of depression and curiosity. However, it made me hard to believe it with my own ears when I had the chance to listen to what those addicts had to say. New LessonIt gave me a new perception about drugs. Plus, it was a whole new experience that I have learned so far. I’m grateful for myself to have done this report because it taught me a lot, and it allowed me to do something that not just saying or advising, but actually doing something for the society.

  Like I mentioned before, I was in a hard time when I was tempted to do drugs. It was just an idea though. I knew I wouldn’t do it because if I ever touched it, my friend would kill me, and I’m surely going to kill myself too. Therefore, I found out the truth that I would face the truth instead of dying in shame, no matter how hard it could be. I realized that if I survive that time, I will be stronger.

So here I am, still breathing with my short nose. Failure doesn’t kill me; it just gives me some hard lessons that I might need it for later.

 

“How Could This Happen To ME?”

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on April 10, 2009 by Meta

               This is how I feel. I have a hundred questions that I can’t ask anybody else but myself. Before, I just told addicts to pull themselves back, but now I’m trying to pull myself back. It is my experiment. I need to find out if this solution works or not. I’m feeling lost. I need time to think.

The song below says exactly what I feel.

“Untitled”

I open my eyes
I try to see but I’m blinded by the white light
I can’t remember how
I can’t remember why
I’m lying here tonight

 And I can’t stand the pain
And I can’t make it go away
No I can’t stand the pain

 How could this happen to me
I’ve made my mistakes
I’ve got nowhere to run
The night goes on
As I’m fading away
I’m sick of this life
I just wanna scream
How could this happen to me

                   Everybody’s screaming                     
I try to make a sound but no one hears me
I’m slipping off the edge
I’m hanging by a thread
I wanna start this over again

So I try to hold onto a time when nothing mattered
And I can’t explain what happened
And I can’t erase the things that I’ve done
No I can’t

How could this happen to me
I’ve made my mistakes
I’ve got nowhere to run
The night goes on
As I’m fading away
I’m sick of this life
I just wanna scream
How could this happen to me

Lyric’s InFO: Untitled by Simple Plan

“Life Does Not Make Sense”

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on April 8, 2009 by Meta

                 I’ve talked and written a lot about others’ lives and feelings. I’ve written about how their feelings could lead them to drugs. I’ve written about how they should do to pull themselves back. I know it is hard for them, but it is even harder when it comes to be me.

            Short explanation, I am not doing drugs and I don’t think I’m going to, but what I feel right now is probably one of the pre-feelings of drugs users. That sounds complicated, it is complex just because I feel complicated, and that’s why my writing is complicated.

I know one thing that if I were near some of my friends who do drugs, I’d probably taste it. I’m so weak to deny it, but the truth is I’m not near a single friend like that, not anymore. My friends who are near me right now give me inspiration, they give me a reason to smile, and they give me a reason to be strong, just to look at them. They don’t even have to do anything with me. I just can’t become one of those addicts when I’m around these friends.

I don’t know if this moment is the turning point of my life” or not because it’s not me who is changed, it is everything around me that is changed, but not by me. I’m not native English. I don’t know what these words really mean implicitly. I can’t infer anything right now.       

Where is the Reason to LiveI don’t feel like I wake up at the morning and lose everything that I thought I had. It’s not what I feel right now. What I really feel is empty. In a sudden everything turned out to be the end. It’s OVUR! In the morning is so hard to wake up. The trees are too green to look at. The sun is too bright to stay outside and the weather is so hot that I can’t go anywhere.

            This is the first time of my life that I really learn something, something that is called Life doesn’t make sense,” I’ve learned the real meaning of this sentence from this real world, just yesterday. I’ve seen tears of more than 140 women just yesterday too. Maybe not all of them crying, but they probably felt the same pain.

Image’s InFO: Where is My Hope

             I didn’t want to ask someone about anything because I felt like I knew the answers. However, I asked myself, is it enough to cry? “Is it enough to die? But somebody saved my life.”[1]

            All I want to do is “I just wanna scream and lose control, throw my hands up and let it go, forget about anything and run away. I just wanna fall and lose myself, life is so hard and it hurts like hell.”[2]

            Now I figured out that all the things that I’ve done are not the real me who has done it, it’s a robot who did everything instead of me. I’ve not used my brain to think and protest about anything for so long, I’ve used it to be “flexible,” the only word that has driven me crazy for a year.

            I can’t find myself right now. I don’t know who the one in the mirror is, the one that has stolen my life. She has stolen my days and nights. I’ve lost myself in a place that I never knew before. I can’t blame anyone. It was ME who chose to be where I am right now. I can go back home, but I can’t face the truth. I’ve got the feeling that my family won’t accept me. I’m so F—ked up!

            All I know is that it’s already too late. Every good thing is so good to be true. I should have known, I don’t deserve such luck, but it’s not my fault. In fact, I’m grateful for everything I’ve got because it is the only thing that I’ve had.

            Helen Keller was right, “If life is easy, we don’t learn anything.”

Life is pain, but that is just the way it goes. For me, I’m not sorry for myself even though I don’t know where to go, I have no money to go to college and I don’t have a job. It is my fault that I don’t have the strength to catch up with what I thought I supposed to. The only one that I feel sorry for is my father.

However, “I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this way alone.”[3]

My future is in my hand, but maybe I don’t have any hand to hold on to it. I’m powerless, useless and disappointing.

All I can say is all about conditional contrary to facts. This robot is run out of gas. I’m so parched. Give me some water. I don’t want to wait for rain drops to fall into my mouth because then it will be too late.


[1] Sentences from Anything but Ordinary lyric by Avril Lavigne

[2] Sentences from Run Away lyric by Avril Lavigne

[3] Sentences from Famous Last Words lyric by My Chemical Romance

Shooting Heroine to Forget about Father and Friend’s Mother’s Affair – a submission to Your Story

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on April 7, 2009 by Meta

          

            Drugs addicts are everywhere including in Bangladesh. Family crisis is one of the main factors that lead people, especially teenagers to drugs. For instance, Osru’s father and her friend’s mother made out. Knowing about this affair, Osru and her best friend, Jolly, together crying and fighting. They then shot drugs in Jolly’s boy friend’s house.

            After living three months in Bangladesh, I know an open girl named Osru. The second time I met Osru, I could understand the pain behind her dark eyes. After sitting and talking for a while, she said to me, “My father was like a god to me. I never could forgive him after I knew his real face.”

Osru described her shocking life experience without even looking at me. She said, “I used to be an innocent girl who saw everything positively, but then my peaceful world was completely crushed.”

            The story began when her parents and her best friend’s parents were best friends. They always went to each other’s house to have dinner together. The world was beautiful until one day when her mother went to look after her grandmother. That night, Osru and her best friend saw her father and Jolly’s mother had one night stand in her home.

She got a feeling like someone hacked her head. She felt like the sky felt upon her and she couldn’t even stand up. She was fallen behind.

When I was speechless, she pulled her shirt down a bit and pointed her finger at her front left shoulder, “This is the black spot that my father gave me as a warning to keep my mouth shut,” she said.

In fact, he didn’t need to do that because Osru could barely talk about it. She could never confess it to her mother even if she tried to. Apart of her wanted to wake her mother up, but the other part of her told herself that it would only just break apart the whole family if she told her mother. Jolly also felt the same.

They both could not look each other in the eyes. They wanted to break their friendship apart, but they kept holding on to each other. They cried over each other’s shoulder. They hit, they blamed themselves, but then they realized it was not their faults. They could not hate each other nor face the truth. As they couldn’t handle the problem, they decided to shoot heroine together. It was Jolly’s boy friend who provided them the drugs.

They had been shooting drugs for six months, and no one else knew it. Osru was getting thinner and thinner, she ate almost nothing. Then her boy friend, Hassan, noticed that she was shooting drugs. After knowing that, he slapped her every day until she stopped shooting heroine.

She showed me scars-bladed all over her forearms and both of her labs. She said, “My father would kill me if he knew it.”

 “I love Hassan so much that I stop shooting it. The first time I missed shooting it, I sucked my own blood. It was dripping all over the place and then I fainted. When I woke up, no one came home yet. So I cleaned up the floor. My Kamiz[1] hid my wounds so no one noticed it,” she said.

She could stop it at last because she was only a newly drugs user. Jolly told her that she would stop, but she couldn’t because she fell too deep into the black hole. Raaj[2] loved someone else, but he raped her. It was even more pressure for Jolly.

Osru lastly said, “I can’t tell if she can stop it because even I, I’m not sure how long I can stay away from it, but I will encourage her to stop it. I know her and she knows me. I’m the only one who can pull her back. She always backs me up. This time, it’s my turn to help her.”

PS: Each name in the story has been changed to keep their privacy.


[1] Bangladesh shirt

[2] Jolly’s boy friend

A Famous Tormenting Prison in Sylhet

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on March 22, 2009 by Meta

 

I visited a friend’s house in Sylhet, Bangladesh. The house was near a prison. The road was called Jail Road. Once or twice a day, when I went outside the house, I gave a quick glance at the prison. Then my friend would tell me that, “This is a really famous prison for torturing prisoners. The people who stand in the line in front of the prison are prisoners’ relatives. They wait to see their relatives in the prison.”jail-road2

 

I didn’t respond to her. I just looked at the people who were standing in front of it. They seemed so sad. I saw a man came out and still looked back at the prison’s gate, another man leaned against the gate and cried. I didn’t want to imagine the situation in the jail.

 

In fact, I didn’t really feel sorry for the prisoners because I thought that maybe they were some teenagers who were rebellious or wanted to be cool like acting cool and doing something cool. Maybe most of them might think that doing some cool stuff is getting more experiences and first of all, they could start from skipping school so that they could spend sometimes to be cool. Or maybe it was about being strong, rebellious, violent…or something that shows that they were in adulthood. In this case, they could shoot drugs to help them become stronger, and then they would make others feel uncomfortable by their strong activities. Maybe they thought that it was fun to do these kinds of stuffs, and it could make them feel so good with what they were doing, but then it just came to an end because, in reality, they didn’t realize that making people scared wouldn’t get them very far.

However, I felt bad for their relatives since, all days and nights, they would always think about their relatives in that place. They couldn’t get so excited or laugh out loud in any circumstances when their relatives face the torture every day. For me, I couldn’t do anything to help them. The only thing that I could do is to watch and think about it.

A Victim of a Drug Addict – Part Two (What About the Man?)

Posted in Experiences: Bangladesh on March 5, 2009 by Meta

 

A Victim of a Drug Addict – Part One

At the time that my bangladeshi friend’s friend told me her story, I thought it was inappropriate for her to continue talking about it so I changed the topic by asking her, “Anyway, does he stop doing drugs now?”

“No, he’s getting worse now. Many times he was overdose and he was taken to the hospital. Sometimes the doctors tied his hands and legs to the bed so that he wouldn’t run away or hurt anyone. I told him to stop doing drugs a thousand times and he said he would and he swore he could, but then thinking about her led him to drugs over and over again. His mother always calls me to call him and persuade him to stop doing drugs, but it’s just not possible for him to stop it. I’ve tried so hard but even I, my own, I sometimes shot heroine to forget about him. A lot of times that I shot drugs with him, I said to him that if he shot it, I shot it too so if he’s dying, me too. Then he said he’d stop, but then I found out that he took it alone. ”

She paused a moment then she continued, “I don’t know about that. I just don’t want to care about it anymore. The truth is he’s not even doing drugs because of me and if even he doesn’t care about himself, his study, his mother and his friends including me, then why would I waste my time thinking about a guy like him? I figured out that it’s just not worth it. Me too, I am a victim because of him. You know what? I realized I don’t have to care about a selfish guy like him anymore. I want to live my life for me from now on.”

I was speechless for a moment but then I said to her, “I’m really sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you finally realized what you should do. Anyway, thanks for being so open to me. I can’t imagine a pretty, funny girl like you has this pain behind your eyes.”

“I told you the story of my life because I don’t want to see anymore victims like me. However, I can’t tell my parents about it because I know they will hit me till die. Gosh — I was such a fool to be with him in the first place.” She said.

“You’re right, but it’s never too late to realize what’s right to do. At least, you’ve learned your lesson through your experience.”

For me, I don’t think there are a lot of girls who can actually face their pasts like her. She is a really strong independent woman. However, this situation should never happen ever again.

Enough is enough!