|
|
I have been writing recently about why children need risk. In The Sunday Times (4 July 2010) there was an article about an interesting aspect of this.
Two parents had decided to let their children, aged 8 and 5, cycle to school alone. They live in Dulwich. They were cycling along pavements and only crossed one road, with the help of a lollipop lady. The parents had concluded “the risk is very low and the benefits significantly outweigh them“.
However, the school has decided this is not safe and, having a legal responsibility to notify the local authority if they feel a child in their care is at risk, have said they will involve social services if this unsupervised school-run does not stop.
This raises some interesting issues. Firstly, the Interfering State, which I have posted about before. Can parents not make their own decisions about their children? In this article the mum asks “do the government have the right to put an obligation on schools not to allow any level of risk whatsoever?”
This leads on to the second issue; the level of risk. In my last post on risk I sharedmy concerns about my son tripping off the pavement as he runs to school. Despite some very sensible comments on my post, I still have an issue with this bit of pavement. This week I watched a child on a scooter have a near miss with a van pulling out of a driveway. What is the right reaction to this? Should we all insist our children walk with us – as a mum it’s so hard to get this balance right; modern parents are criticised for being over cautious, saying “no” and “don’t” too often. Playground Mum says – think about how many children walk down that pavement every day and how many actually get hurt.
This is what the Dulwich parents have done – assessed the risks and decided they are minimal. They say they have gradually exposed their children to taking greater responsibility and risks and have adjusted, mature and independent children as a result. “We wanted to recreate the simple freedom of our childhood…these days children live such regimented lives. They can do nothing unless it’s planned beforehand“.
Professor Furedi is quoted in the piece as saying that the state is steadily encroaching and that excessive protection of children harms their development. He says the measures these parents took “actually protect the children by developing resilience and resourcefulness through facing challenging situations”.
It is lamented that children these days have no freedom to simply run in the park. Dulwich Dad says “we are trying to let them enjoy their lives and teach them a little bit about the risks of life…[which] are no greater today than they were 30 years ago. It’s all about the perception of risk rather than reality”.
In an article in The Daily Telegraph, Michael Owen was expressing concern about the parks being empty of parent-free children, but for a different reason. His point was that children are not getting enough football practice. “When school was finished I would be straight to the park at 4pm and my mum would be dragging me by the ear at 9pm to get home to bed. ” Nowadays, young boys are on their computers and the parks are empty.
The Dulwich parents report that they tried to encourage other parents to allow the children to meet for a free play in the park but were met with “a wall of silence”.
As a parent in this age of information and choice, the decisions are so difficult. Do I let my child race down the pavement and pray each day that a van is not pulling out of the hidden driveway? Or do I start a campaign, for drivers and children, promoting road awareness at school run time? Do we need a zebra crossing or lollipop lady to protect us from cars racing a short cut through the village or should I insist my children always hold my hand and walk with me? Am I being a Good Mother or a fusspot?
The dangers are there; how do we assess them and facilitate safe, practical living for our children. Is it right that we could be overruled in this judgement by schools “under obligation” to consider children’s safety?
Today, Roza Otunbaeva has been inauguration as President of Kyrgyzstan.
Kyrgyzstan has had a traumatic few months. In April there was a second revolution; President Bakiyev fled the country. In recent weeks there has been terrible violence in the southern cities of Osh and Jalalabad; thousands have fled as refugees. There is much in our news about a proposed referendum on political reform; on Thursday, the Kyrgyz voted in a referendum to decide whether to endorse the interim government. 90.55% voted in favour of the new constitution, approving Roza Otunbaeva as President.
There is hope that this will mean the start of more stable times in Kyrgyzstan. The reality is that with parliamentary elections due, there will be more disputes within the country. Kyrgyzstan is complicated; there are different ethnic groups – Uzbeks, Kyrgyz, Russians, Tajiks – and many clans. What we describe as nepotism, they call loyalty. With a population of only five million, many of whom are illiterate or uneducated, there are few qualified to take government positions, so a small group of elite rotates according to whose clan is in power.
It’s unsurprising that Kyrgyzstan faces so many problems. I wish Roza luck in strong, uncompromised leadership. She has been involved in politics for many years, including as ambassador to the UK. When I lived in Kyrgyzstan she was a campaigner against the alleged corrupt government.
Ian Claytor, still living in Bishkek, writes “Many people seem to be of the opinion that a resounding and convincing positive result in the referendum will resolve all our problems … mean no more upheaval and disorder, death and destruction.”
Sadly, in a region as complicated as Central Asia, this is unlikely.
Click here for a BBC News report on the referendum.
 I would like to share photos and thanks from ARBAN for the clothes M passed to them for the people of Jheelpur slum on his last visit in May.
Thank you to everyone who donated clothes; people were extremely generous, handing me huge bags of beautiful clothes. I hope you will think from these photos that they are being put to good use.
We are working to formalise our fundraising for the mothers and children of Jheelpur slum. If anyone is interested in being involved, the next meeting is on Monday 5th July 2010. For those who are unable to attend but would like to be involved in this initiative, please email me at contact@saffiafarr.com
 This is Ruma and baby Rajia, the family who so touched me when I visited the slum. From this photo I feel heartened that Rajia is looking better, growing well and looking more healthy.
Dr Kamal, Chief Executive Officer of ARBAN, has written to thank us for our involvement. He is visiting the UK in August and we hope to to meet with him then so that others involved in the fundraising can gain a greater insight into what ARBAN is attempting to achieve in Bangladesh. This is his message:
 “Warmest greetings from ARBAN and Bangladesh.Thank you very much for your kind and generous support to ARBAN to help the slum dwelling people of Jheelpar Bastee of Mirpur to help themselves to overcome poor health conditions , malnutritions , diseases and deprivations. Your visit to the slums brought hope and dignity in their lives. Your material supports founded the bridge between the tormented people of Bangladesh and the generous people of the UK. 
After your visit to the slums they believe that they were no more alone in this world and their voices were amplified in the UK and being heard by many philanthropists. We trust that our collective efforts will bring about positive changes in the lives and conditions of the people live in hard and hazardous conditions.”
My last two columns for Nursery World have been about why children need to experience risky and challenging play.
In January 2010 I went to a seminar about the importance of adventurous play at the Nursery World Show. The speaker, Helen Tovey, explained the theory; if children are not exposed to risk, they cannot learn how to manage it. She quoted Froebel “a boy who has not been exposed to risk will not know his capabilities and is more likely to encounter danger”.
As a mother of two boys (and a little girl!), this really made me think: As a parent, keen to protect your child from danger, how often do we say “be careful…don’t do that you’ll fall…don’t run so fast down that hill”?
I’ve realised that while encouraging my sons to be more independent and adventurous in their play, I’m also using words of caution too often.
If we limit what they are allowed to experience, we will limit their ability to make decisions about what is sensible.
This is of course the key – finding the balance between being sensible and letting them explore. It’s a similar issue to the one I wrote about in my Stay Where I Can See You post. Then I had realised that while wondering why my oldest son was not keen to play independently from me, I was being over-cautious in not giving him the space to discover his own independence.
Both are difficult balances to find – we don’t want to allow our children to wander the streets alone or climb to the top of tall trees and fall out, but we want them to be confident and have a strong self believe.
There are “sensible/safe” ways to let them learn about managing risk. Researching this subject I found an article on Visit Wiltshire about Bowood House. Bowood had done a survey and discovered that parents visiting their adventure playground “fear the ramifications of over protecting today’s children and avoiding even a responsible level of risk”.
“Children who don’t explore and evaluate risk and danger won’t be able to discover their own limits and are likely to be more accident-prone. If children’s thinking becomes controlled and their imaginations aren’t explored, their perceptions are bound to be narrower; they won’t be so streetwise and able to fend for themselves”.
The Bowood attitude is that over-anxious parents will create reserved children less able to fend for themselves. Spending too much time indoors is unhealthy; parents questioned were nostalgic for their own childhoods when they were able to wander more freely. They asked, “is there more risk than in the 70’s or do we just have more access to the information now”?
I’m not suggesting that we stop watching our children, letting them do what they please. A crucial point is to differentiate between a risk and a hazard. “A hazard is something a child does not see. A risk is a challenge a child can see and chooses to undertake, or not.” (Mairs, K, 2000, quoted in Nursery World 6 May 2010).
T (age 6) has recently become a Beaver Scout and I was delighted when they went on a rock climbing and abseiling trip. However, despite knowing the theory, it’s still hard to let go. As he was preparing to set off I had to stop myself telling him to be careful, not wanting to instil anxiety in him through my parental worries. Instead I told him to listen to the instructions! That was advice Helen Tovey had given us; if children are shown how to do challenging activities correctly, then mastering that skill is a great way for them to build confidence and self-esteem. And those characteristics will be strong blocks on which to build as life gets more complex.
Stephenie Meyer ended up writing four books and hundreds of pages to complete the story of her characters Bella and Edward. In reading and thinking about her Twilight Saga, I ended up writing hundreds of words to explain what I thought! Therefore, I have split it into three posts:
Twilight: My Review
The Twilight Saga: What do you think?
Scoring Twilight: What is a Good Book?
When I studied English Literature A’Level I disliked how it made me pull books apart; any enjoyment of reading was lost in analysis and critique. I was worried Book Club might do the same. Thankfully, it has not. Instead I am thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to discuss and theorise about books I’ve enjoyed. Some of us are still discussing Twilight, weeks after the book club meeting and there are millions of fan sites around the world (some worryingly obsessive). These posts are just my way of collating and sharing my thoughts.
I will try very hard not to give anything away as I know some of my blog readers have not read Twilight and I recommend that you do! The books are best read with as much surprise as possible. However, be warned, Twilight is everywhere and some surprises were unintentionally ruined for me when I, for example, flipped through a magazine in my dentist’s waiting room and found out more than I wanted to about a certain character.
 Twilight, written for the “young adult” audience, is the story of an intense love between two high-schoolers, Bella and Edward. Edward just happens to be a vampire. The Twilight saga is a best-selling phenomenon but I had not been inspired to read the books, despite friend’s recommendations, because the vampire aspect put me off. Then, wanting a contrast to Lady Chatterley, we decided to see what the fuss was about and chose Twilight by Stephenie Meyer for Book Club.
I’m so glad we did. I loved Twilight and have become hooked into the saga. My pre-conceptions were all wrong: Twilight is not about vampires in the gory throat-ripping sense but about the intriguing complexities of how these “beings” might live alongside humans. The fact that Edward is a vampire adds complications to the relationship as he is unattainable in many senses. Twilight is about Bella and Edward discovering more about themselves as they fall “irrevocably” in love and how their relationship develops as they deal with the reality of their unusual situation.
I think Meyer is a clever story teller. Many disagree. Some at Book Club thought that nothing happened but I was captivated by the power of their love that Meyer portrays, as well as the tension she creates in the climax of Twilight (and Breaking Dawn, the finale of the saga).
The lure of Edward is strong, pulling you in like Bella, even through the pages of a book. There’s a lot of intense staring into eyes; Edward’s eyes are hypnotic. I was completely in love with Edward; Meyer says she was too, “from day one”, and very much paints a picture of his physical attraction. Readers have been falling in love with aloof, unattainable literary heroes for years – Mr Darcy, Mr Rochester, Heathcliffe. With Twilight the difference is that for many of us, Edward had the face of Robert Pattinson before we started reading – which doesn’t necessarily help as with many books to film, your imagination is much more dramatic than any movie.
I was hooked into their lives, intrigued to find out more about vampires with Bella, keen to see how Edward and Bella would work out their relationship. Could they sustain this intensity; what would happen once they got past the “honeymoon” stage and reality hit? Would there be a night when Bella said “quit staring at me Edward, I’m trying to read a book”? This is what New Moon, Eclipse and Breaking Dawn are about, Meyer admitting on her website “when I’d finished the body of the novel, I started writing epilogues…lots of epilogues. This eventually clued me in to the fact that I wasn’t ready to let go of my characters, and I started working on the sequel…”
Like JK Rowling, Stephenie Meyer has created a world with characters we care about, we’re interested because they’re different, we want to know what happens. Both authors throw out pieces of puzzles that keep us compelled because we want to know how they will fit in; I was impatient to know all the details of how it would work out, why things were how they were. I admired the clever plotting and creativity. I liked that Forks is a real place and that La Push is there too, the Quileute story containing characters Meyer picked up on and made intrinsic to her own story.
Some in Book Club were surprised that I, having liked Lady Chatterley, could then enjoy Twilight, they assumed I’d be annoyed by the style. But I didn’t notice the style; I was too transfixed by the story, feverishly reading on in my desperation to find out what happens.
This is what good fiction does to you, draws you into the world of the book; I felt dizzy with the plot, emotions and interconnections. The saga twists off into ever more creative fantasy in New Moon and Eclipse, you have to be prepared to keep up. Meyer nearly lost me – Bella started to annoy me, maybe I was just jealous! – but I was hooked enough to overlook the flaws and race through pages to find answers. The reward for me was in Breaking Dawn when we return again to the magic I’d felt in Twilight and could enjoy the clever and intriguing plot lines of legends, minds and connections.
Why do we love Edward? He is, in his own words, a “monster”, the world’s best predator, everything about him drawing you in. I decided it’s because, in the vulnerability of our teenage years, we all want our own Edward. Despite being a vampire he is attractive, protective, interested, strong, exciting and utterly devoted. I could appreciate the teenage yearning for an Edward, remembering the physical lurch in your tummy when someone you like comes into the room, the sense that everything is so much more fun when they are there and things just don’t feel the same when they are not.
Many at Book Club thought the strength of Twilight was its ability to recapture teenage years. (Some) teenage girls can relate to Bella while older readers are reminded, maybe painfully, of teenage insecurities; the desperation of wanting to be “fancied”, the desolation of rejection, the search for that endorsement of yourself. Reading Twilight I felt very glad that I was no longer at that stage of insecurity when your self-esteem is so dependent on the admiration and opinion of another.
This, for me, is what Twilight is about, and what we talked about at Book Club; not vampires and blood but people and relationships; emotion, loyalty, family, love, obsession, compulsion. Is Edward a monster because he’s a vampire? Bella brings out the human in him. Is he good or bad for Bella? Is she better off without him? Is love enough?
It’s easy to criticise Meyer; there’s nothing like mega-success to polarise opinion. But I have to conclude my review with a resounding endorsement of Twilight, the evangelical “I love it” I felt before negative reviews made me doubt my sense and feel slightly embarrassed for being sucked in!
I feel sad that I’ve finished, always the sign of a Good Book, but also relieved that all my questions are answered and I can move on – it’s also maybe a good thing that I will now start talking to my children again rather than plonking food on the table and hiding in the kitchen for a furtive read while they eat.
I’m not the only one who felt panicked that I was never going to be able to let go. An article in Entertainment Weekly describes how one young girl asks Meyer at a signing ”Are we going to feel complete at the end of Breaking Dawn?”. Meyer replies ”I can’t really answer that question for you…But I felt closure.”
A quick flip through reviews on Amazon shows that not everyone is enamoured with The Twilight Saga. There are of course flaws – every reader reacts to a book in a different way so what book can be perfect? The issue with Twilight is whether the weaknesses distract you. One Amazon reviewer wrote “…at times those flaws tried to pull me away from the pages while I wrestled with my beliefs but never did I feel like I couldn’t go on…”
Bella is much criticised. Reviewers say she’s vacuous, overly clumsy, seems to have no friends in her former home, does nothing and has no interests other than Edward; she’s a feminist’s nightmare. But I’m thinking, who cares, I enjoyed the story (although Bella did start to annoy me and I thought certain people should try telling her “no” more often!) However, you’re not supposed to be able to rationalise their love and behaviour; it’s all about compulsion.
Twilight was written in fervour and that is part of its strength; it compels you to read in a fervour. Meyer is a writing mom with three young children. I liked the image of her working through plot lines while watching swimming lessons then feverishly writing it all down in the evenings. She says Bella and Edward were always in her head, they wouldn’t “shut up”, so she was awake at night jotting down what they said. Her obsession is shared on the pages. It’s hedonistic writing and hedonistic reading. Meyer does not pretend to be literary, “when I’m writing the stories, I’m just looking to have a good time” she says in Time Magazine. But her words must have some power and strength if she is able to transfix so many millions of readers.
If you want to enjoy The Twilight Saga my advice would be, don’t get too tied up in the detail, as I sometimes did, just let the story take you. Of course it’s always possible to criticise, but if you’re absorbed by what you’re reading, isn’t that missing the point? I was reading Twilight on a beach while my children played in the sand around me. When I wasn’t reading I was thinking about Bella and Edward. I had to remind myself to re-engage with the family holiday. That, for me, is the power of a Good Book.
Incidentally, in researching Twilight I came across some really scary stuff on the Internet, people drawn into the saga in a much darker way than simply enjoying the books, writing that they are vampires and others replying begging to tell them how to change! Help. It makes me scared to ever let my children on the Internet; the disturbing things going on out there, people lost in this dark world of technological fantasy and communication. I’ll admit I was sucked in to enjoying the story but begging a stranger to turn you into a vampire; that is taking a Twilight obsession too far.
As a contrast, there are also some sites selling fun merchandise with great slogans. My favourites so far are as follows: “Meanwhile, in a town named Spoons”; “Jasper says Relax”; “Forget a knight in shining armour, I want a vampire in a Volvo!”; “If mom’s reading Twilight…Cereal! It’s what’s for dinner!”; “Never got my letter from Hogwarts so I’m moving to Forks”
So, what do you think? The Twilight Saga: love it or loathe it? Is it brilliant writing because it’s gripping reading or a load of tosh hyped into marketable hysteria by girls in love with Robert Pattinson?
Scoring at Book Club has become complicated. We give one mark out of 10 and now that we have past scores to compare with, are sometimes struggling. What are the criteria? Is it appropriate to score a Stephenie Meyer over a DH Lawrence, a respected writer whose books have been used as exam texts for years? Our discussion about scoring at the last book club lead me to think about what is a Good Book?
Does a book have to be literary to be Good?
Does a Good Book have to be thick, intense and intellectual?
I once read a criticism that Booker prize winners were pretentious because they were too concerned with being heavy and historical; trying too hard to be clever with words and therefore off-putting to most readers. I’m not suggesting Twilight for the Booker prize but surely, if you’re gripped and don’t want to put a book down, does that not make it a Good Book. Is a Good Book about the writer or the reader?
In between our Lady Chatterley and Twilight Book Club meetings I came across a comment on a Got Your Hands Full blog post that was an interesting reflection on the two books.
“…there are the ‘storytellers who write’ and I’m far more interested in the unrolling tale than the ‘mechanics’ of how they wrote it. Others are ‘writers who tell a story’. They may write exquisitely, but you can feel the presence of the writer on every page and it sometimes creates an extra arm’s length layer between reader and story”.
This, I thought, summed up the difference between Lawrence and Meyer. Lawrence, we are told, is a “good” writer, and yet few at Book Club enjoyed his book. Meyer is criticised as a “bad” writer but many at Book Club LOVED her books. So why do we have to consider her a bad writer? It’s almost as if books that are easy, hedonistic reads are automatically considered bad writing. Surely, if you’re judging books on reader reactions, hers should be considered brilliant writing because it’s gripping reading. Why should we be ashamed of scoring Twilight an unqualified 10?
Another comment on that post (made by Plan B) said “I’m a literature graduate and so I know that I’m only supposed to like “good” writing. So why am I racing through The Host by Stephenie Meyer, and desperate to get back to it? And why am I embarrassed by this? What’s wrong with the ability to tell a strong story that involves the reader, and why does that make her a bad writer?”
Is it actually all about snobbery, what we THINK we should be enjoying? In the way a Booker Prize winner must seemingly be long, intense and incomprehensible to win, when we talk about a Good Book, are we actually just keen to give the right impression about what we read. When I was younger I went through a stage of reading books that I thought I should read, but I was too intellectually immature and got nothing from them. I’m having another go at them now. But do all these classics deserve the fuss that’s made about them? Do we need to trawl through turgid pages because some academic has declared them a masterpiece? Is there not space to appreciate the skill and merit in plotting a saga such as Twilight or Harry Potter?
Despite being a self-confessed book snob, I felt proud to have Twilight in my bag. I was excited about how it was affecting me; wanting to go up to teenage girls I passed and ask if they had read it too.
So, is Twilight a Good Book? Can I justify scoring it over Lawrence? This is always going a subjective question because every book will affect every reader in a different way. What individual, therefore, is in a position to elevate a book to Good status and stigmatise another to Bad? Is it fair to downgrade a book simply because it is not literary?
I gave Twilight* an unqualified 10; purely on the basis of enjoyment. Yes, there are flaws, but I was hooked, I wanted to read more, I wanted to know what would happen to the characters, I needed to know. I read in a frenzied, compulsive, page turning way, feeling the strong urge to read when I knew I should be doing something else. I read it because I wanted to, not because I thought I should and when I wasn’t reading the book I was thinking about it. Surely that deserves recognition.
For me, there is power in Meyer’s writing if she can stir strong emotions. There is also room in the world for a myriad of categories of Good Books. I struggle to enjoy Chick Lit, it irritates me. But millions love it so it must have its own merits.
At Book Club it’s hard to give one score when you may be recognising each book for different reasons. I liked Lady Chatterley for the interesting observations; The Book Thief for a poignant look at war. None yet has been the addictive hedonistic read of Twilight, but you can enjoy a book for a variety of reasons. One book club member told me that sometimes she might not think she’s enjoyed a book but, on reflection, realised she got a lot from reading it.
Another sign of a Good Book is a feeling of sadness when you read the last page (one member of Book Club confessed to feeling “bereft” as she finished the Twilight saga!) Books are company; you live the lives of characters as you read and it’s sad to leave them behind at the end.
I think a Good Book must be defined by what the reader is gaining rather than what the writer is trying to say. Millions have gained something from Twilight, but Meyer doesn’t consider herself literary: ”I read these other authors and I think, ‘Now, that’s a good writer. I’m never going to reach that level.’ But I’m going to be a good storyteller,” she says, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. ”And what a thing to be!”**
*I would not rate New Moon and Eclipse so highly
** (Interview in Entertainment Weekly)
I found the climax of our country’s political drama strangely moving last night.
Watching coverage of the speeches as Gordon Brown ended his time as Prime Minister and David Cameron started his, my eyes were drawn, both times, away from the men to their wives. I thought how hard it must be for them to stand and listen; having to contain the emotions they are feeling.
These events are interesting for us in our country’s political history, but for those two women, these events have utterly and fundamentally altered their family lives. How difficult is it to cope when your family environment changes with the waxing and waning of your husband’s political fortune? How does it feel to be Mrs Brown retreating to Scotland or Mrs Cameron riding the euphoria of arriving at No 10? Does either welcome the upheaval of moving her young children to a different home?
How difficult it must be to be a political wife and mother. When you choose your husband, must you also choose his vocation?
This the last in my series of posts about our trip to Bangladesh. My visit to Jheelpur slum gave me much to think about, a new perspective on how some people live.
 After a couple of days in Dhaka I became very aware of a desperately poor underclass. There is no welfare state so beggars tap at your window at traffic lights, pleading with you to help them eat. This for me became the predominant image of Dhaka and I wanted to learn more about the millions who live in slums.
I was introduced to Mohammed Shah Newaz, a young man working for the Association for the Realisation of Basic Needs (ARBAN), an NGO. Newaz is rare, an educated Bangladeshi who has not left to find a “better” life elsewhere. “I want to serve my people,” he explains, “it’s not a human life.” His dream is social justice, an end to the endemic corruption which is throttling the development of Bangladesh. “Bangladesh is not a poor country, we have many resources. In the liberation war of 1971 the peasants and workers fought for independence from Pakistan, but they don’t see the benefits now. The message was that in independent Bangladesh, people would live in dignity with basic amenities. This has not happened.”
More than 4 million of Dhaka’s 14 million population live in slums. Newaz  took me to Jheelpur, home to approximately 500 families. As we walked down a slope into the main street we became surrounded by a crowd of dusty children. They were the cliché of slum life, dressed in ragged clothes, grinning at the foreigner, pushing to be at the front of my photos. Newaz explained that there was a school funded by a different NGO, but it was evident that they spent most of their time grubbing around in the dirt surrounding their homes.
 We passed a pump where a mother was vigorously washing a little girl under a precious stream of clean water, watched by a bare-bottomed toddler. Newaz explained this had been provided by ARBAN and WaterAid. “It’s a participatory system. The community decided how many pumps and latrines they wanted and where and we gave technical support and engineers. But it’s not just about giving facilities. We are encouraging people to understand their rights, we mobilise them to improve their lives. ARBAN helped persuade the government to allow slum dwellers to vote. Before, you needed a house number.”
We entered the “hanging slum”. Shacks made of corrugated iron are raised on stilts and connected by narrow, dilapidated walkways of bamboo poles, lashed together and patched where feet have fallen through. The whole structure moves as you walk. Underneath I could see rubbish and sewage from surrounding residential areas. During monsoon months the water level rises, flooding homes when the rains are especially heavy.
We slipped down a muddy slope into a tunnel of corrugated iron. The sweet smell of rotting rubbish and human excreta intensified. I felt claustrophobic, and ashamedly sick. This was where people lived and I was determined to meet them with dignity. We were visiting Rahima, president of the Community Based Organisation (CBO). She greeted us by the door of her home, regal in a purple sari. While we talked she squatted on small wooden small in the corner of her shack that was the kitchen. She was making khichuri; rice, dhal and potatoes cooked slowly in a metal pot over a clay oven.
Even in the slum there is a hierarchy of poverty; Rahima is well off and  comfortable, she has a television and can afford fish. Her shack is divided into two rooms by a curtain. There is electricity, provided through illegal connections, for which she pays 800 takka a month (approx. £7, 10% of their income). She pays “muscle men”, thugs who exploit the illegality of the slums. Deals are done to encourage the water authority to delay the legal connections ARBAN fight to provide. If slum dwellers refuse to pay, their homes are burned, the thugs knowing that others will take their places. Newaz explained it is more expensive to live in a slum than an apartment because extortionate rates are charged for illegal services and “rent”. It becomes impossible to save for better accommodation.
Rahima’s role in the CBO is to coordinate local efforts to keep the latrines  clean and functioning and to collect contributions for the water bill, paid to the local authority. She proudly shows me the two latrines that back onto her home. Before ARBAN’s help there was nowhere private to defecate, wash or change sanitary cloths. “Now we can look after ourselves”, Rahima says, smiling. It occurs to me that this is what the lofty phrase “everyone deserves to live with dignity” actually means; the right to sanitation and privacy, the ability to keep yourself clean.
Rahima was keen that I meet other women of the CBO. She held my arm as we crossed the walkways, anxious that I should not slip into the black sludge below. At the pump the mother was intently clipping her daughter’s nails, the toddler crying at her feet. Our eyes met and I felt intense guilt for believing that I’d had to work hard to clean up after my children, despite wet wipes and our own bathroom. Here mothers had rags as nappies and only recently, access to running water.
 We attended a meeting run by ARBAN motivators. The women were being taught about the importance of hand washing and drinking clean water. “A lot of our work is to empower”, Newaz explained. “We help people to make decisions that will improve their lives. Many of these women are illiterate, they’ve had no education. What we teach may seem simple but can be life saving because diseases like dysentery still kill.”
“ARBAN have taught me it’s important to make ourselves heard to politicians,” Rahima said “The local ward commissioner visited us before the election and promised many things, but then he forgot us. With the CBO we go and complain, we feel stronger now.” Why don’t you leave, go back to your village?” I asked. “There is nothing there” Rahima explained, “no way to earn. That is why I came to Dhaka. I have lived here for twenty-three years now. I raised my children in Jheelpur, this is my home.”
Outside was a communal kitchen. Women were squatting next to small domed clay ovens, metal pots balanced over holes in the top. Others were scrubbing pots, their feet squelching in mud. A little girl was holding a baby who looked newborn. As I said hello, Ruma, the baby’s mother, was called from her washing up. I asked Rajia’s age. “She’s five months old.” Then I realised how sickly she was.
Ruma is 20, her husband a jobbing construction labourer who takes whatever work he can find. They frequently have insufficient money to buy food. Rajia is malnourished and under-developed. I found it hard to leave them. “We are planning a project to help mothers and babies of the slum” Newaz told me as we walked back up the dusty slope “but our funding is running out. Our dream is to move everyone from the slum. We have a Housing Assistance Program. We have bought two plots of land and are hoping to build 300 flats. We help families to save so they can participate in this project. We sow the seed, to encourage them to help themselves, but they still need support from us if they are to truly escape their poverty.”
As I prepared for bed across the noisy city that night I thought of Ruma and Rajia. I felt useless. What could I do to help? I have three healthy children because I can afford to feed them and have access to free healthcare. Ruma is crippled by her poverty. While there is positive change in Jheelpur, there is so still much help required. Many of our social problems in the UK are derived from excess while around the world millions struggle to feed their babies. This juxtaposition frustrates me.
 Faced with so much desperation I feel helpless about what to do, where to start. If I can make so little difference, is there any point trying? Fortunately, people like Newaz remain strong in their convictions and the women of Jheelpur are slowly and collectively improving their lives. “It’s a long process, the outcome cannot be seen,” Newaz told me “but one day it will succeed”.
Through my interest in Ruma and Rajia, ARBAN have prepared a project proposal for “primary healthcare and nutritional support” targeting mums and babies. I am trying to help them fundraise.
We started last night with a Bangladesh Evening, showing photographs and eating curry. Thank you to everyone for their support.
There will be more about Jheelpur and fundraising on this blog, including ARBAN’s proposal setting out the situation in Jheelpur, the work they plan to do and the costings.
In the meantime, if you would like more information, or to donate, please email me at contact@saffiafarr.com
About our trip to Bangladesh:
First installment: Where we Stayed
Second installment: Rickshaw Rides
Third installment: River Trip
|
|
