My biggest surprise since coming to Bangladesh has been that it’s more difficult for me to raise awareness about the problem of poverty to local Bangladeshis than it has been for me to raise the issue with Bangladeshis living abroad.
While 80% of this country earns less than $2 a day, those who are able to afford chauffeurs, maids, and satellite TV are hard pressed to admit that Bangladesh is a “poor” country. No one has been more vocal about this issue – and more critical of my work here – than my uncle on my mother’s side of the family. He is a judge on the High Court Division of the Supreme Court. According to him, “Bangladesh is not a poor country” and, therefore, I couldn’t possibly be here to help the poor.
The first criticism came before anything had even been distributed to the poor. “You want to hand someone a straw [referring to the LifeStraws], take a picture, and call it poverty alleviation?” he laughed. Even after distributing some items – his criticism had only got worse. “You’ve done nothing,” he explained to me referring to the over fifty mosquito nets I’ve distributed to rural villagers “these things cost 100 taka – anyone can buy them” (the nets actually cost much more than that – but why quibble?).
What has been particularly shocking to me has been when he suggests that the poor don’t even deserve some of the items that I’ve been giving out. If you saw episode one or read this blog earlier, you might have seen the poor rural village boy who I gave a wind-up flashlight. This kid is trying to stay in school but cannot afford electricity – or even candles. This flashlight is perfect for reading at night without the need to buy batteries (which he couldn’t afford). When I told my uncle about this boy and how he was going to use this to study at night – he rolled his eyes and said “yeah right”.
Whenever my uncle sees the stuff I’m planning on giving away – be it a wind-up flashlight, mosquito net, or a water purification straw – he always asks for one. “I’m giving these to those who need them” I repeatedly tell him. “I NEED THEM! The poor are just going to sell them off anyways.” he would say – followed by “I’ll just have to buy them off whoever your distributing them to instead”. The tragedy that was Cyclone Sidr had temporarily silenced this criticism – but only temporarily. Upon my return from aid work in the disaster area, my uncle saw my latest YouTube episode only to say: “you’re just doing this for the publicity…. there is no altruism here”.
It hurts. But, at the same time, I see where he is coming from. His view is no different than the much of the successful well-to-do Bangladeshi community in Dhaka. These people are in a better position to help the poor of their own country than some unemployed former graduate student coming here on his personal savings and family donations. Yet, I seem to be doing more than most of them have. For some people – like my mother’s side uncle – their reaction is to try and rip me a new one. For other’s – like my father’s side uncle – their reaction is to try and outdo me and give even more than I have.
If for every relative that critiques me, I inspire another relative – I can call it a win. But, that doesn’t make the harsh criticism any easier to hear.
