Mission in ASIA
Vol. XVII x No. 1
JANUARY 2005
.jpg)
Moving On
by Bob McCahill, MM
VETERAN MISSIONARY TAKES NEW STEPS FORWARD
Regular contributor and Maryknoll Missioner Fr Bob McCahill reports on where mission has now taken him in Bangladesh.
“You are going to the poorest district in all Bangladesh”, an attendant at the Dhaka bus terminal told me. Although I suspected he was exaggerating it was reassuring to hear his appraisal of Gaibandha, the district town situated in northwest Bangladesh to which I moved that day.
Four years previously Bishop Moses had invited me to join this diocese. Several months later, while I was still missioning in the nation’s southeastern diocese, a discerning friend named Azad attracted me to the northwest, saying: “You will have greater scope there for service to the poor”. How fortunate for me that when I arrived on Azad’s doorstep, three years after he had enticed me to relocate, he spontaneously offered me shelter. Until the current monsoon season ends and flood waters recede I shall be unable to build an abode of my own. Meanwhile, Azad unselfishly shares his house with me.
Countless villages
Immediately upon arriving in Gaibandha I began going around, by bicycle, through countless villages, explaining to many who asked about my identity and purpose. “I am a Christian missionary; the well-being of your disabled ones is my purpose for coming to you”. Initially my outreach is towards persons having cleft lips. Thus, every Friday night, accompanied by two cleft-lipped children and their parents, we travel to Dhaka where Doctor Khundkar, a splendid plastic surgeon, competently and freely repairs them.
In Gaibandha, a place having neither Christians nor other missionaries, the effort to assist persons having cleft lips is an excellent and quick means to help the community understand that the missioner has come in order to make happier the lives of persons who are neglected.
Hot pursuit?
After two months in Gaibandha I had not yet been able to discover a dry plot of land on which to construct a wee house. Thus I was still not cooking my own meals; I took breakfast and supper in restaurants.
At the conclusion of supper one day a lone businessman sitting across the aisle taunted me several times: “Al Queda!” He did not say he thought that entity to be good, or bad. He merely wished to see my reaction. All I could muster was a raised eyebrow. Seeing my taciturnity, another well-dressed fellow interrupted my meal, smiling grandly in my face and warning: “The Taliban is looking for you”. Well, until the day I can erect a hut and start to do my own cooking there, lots of folks know I sup daily around 4:00 p.m. at the Food Village restaurant, and that even Talibanis (if such exist in Gaibandha) are also welcome there.
Broad-minded
In the bazaar of village Horina it pleased me to experience the broad-mindedness of Ruhul Amin, owner of a small store. I had hardly finished explaining myself to a cluster of men beside his store. Never having seen a Christian missionary before, most of the men were hindered from fathoming what I told them.
Perhaps my appearance threw them off; surely my proclamation did, that is: “The purpose of life is to love, and authentic Islam and Christianity must make us generous towards one another.” Ruhul interpreted “missionary” for the group in terms of dedication to Allah and zeal for people’s welfare. He truly understands the missioner’s respect for Islam and for Muslims. He is, therefore, confident that no effort will be made to convert the poor, i.e., the easily coerced ones, to another religion.
Keeping on
On the way to village Simul Tari I recognized the road as one I had traveled one month earlier. I wished only to learn from the pedestrians I met how far I had yet to travel in order to reach my destination. Several replied, offering me directions.
I protested to assure them I already knew this path and its direction, but did not know the distance to my goal. That explanation puzzled them. For Bangladeshi villagers it is the direction that matters, not the distance. Thus, if you are on the right path do not even bother to inquire how far you have yet to go. Surely you will reach that place. Just keep plodding ahead. Not a bad philosophy.
Dwelling place
Early one morning in Rifaitpur village, Shah Alam, the father of two children I had assisted, was walking beside me. His voice quivered as he exclaimed: “I shall never forget you for what you have done for my children. Their treatment was the greatest difficulty I was facing, and then an American came to be my brother.” For all the criticism of America which Bangladeshi Muslims feel justified in declaring, there is also – especially among the less advantaged ones – a readiness to credit Americans.
By chance we met on a street in the town. There were Zulfiqur, Sufi, Monir and Ekram – businessmen, ages 35 to 45 – who all knew of my quest for a bit of land, 8 feet by 10 feet, on which I could build a dwelling. We kidded awhile – mostly about celibacy and my desire to live beside the poor – and then began to walk together, eastward towards Siddiq’s compound, to investigate a place. That plot, however, was still under water. They pointed out that I could raise the level by using landfill. Nevertheless, I refused the place because there were no poor families on either side who would be my closest neighbors. Anyway, it makes me glad to experience the efforts of these men, Muslims who are trying to help Christian missionary find a place to dwell among them..<WM
Feedback on this article?
write to