One of the more original names for a Christadelphian Community I have come across in my travels is the title of the Christadelphian Ecclesia in Dhaka. Still, in the 2008 CALS Diary, they call themselves the Christadelphian Bible Students. That is exactly what they are. Since Bangladesh is a Muslim state, Christian Churches have to be recognized and registered. Officially they don’t exist; thus, my son Kenneth had to have two weddings, a civil one (presided over by a registered Baptist minister) and a Christadelphian wedding (which Bro. Tim Galbraith traveled to Dhaka to solemnize). It is noticeable that many of the Dhaka brethren have Christian names. We may presume they were keen Bible students before they became Christadelphian Bible Students. Kenneth’s wife Nipun belongs to a Baptist family. It can be no coincidence that their meeting room is an apartment leased by Bro. Ron Hicks (Washington, DC), who contacted the group while working for the International Monetary Fund branch in Dhaka.
The first visit that Arla and I made to the apartment was three hours after we landed, off a flight from Fredericton in New Brunswick — via Halifax, London and Doha, Qatar — to Dhaka, on Friday, September 21. After two wakeful nights and a day in the air, we were really not ready for a two-hour long lecture on the promises to Abraham, with readings from a Bangla Bible. At least, we were told that was the subject!
After breakfast, changing, and freshening up at Ken’s apartment, we went by two rickshaws to the meeting at Banani, in the north end of Dhaka, arriving in good time for the lecture. We were asked to remove our shoes before entering the meeting room as a courtesy. Socks were permitted, but bare feet were standard. The majority of the people present sat in three rows, with more seats on either side, forming a U-shaped audience. There were several visitors, and a number of family members and their friends present. The outside hallway and one of the bedrooms was used for Sunday school classes. At the top of the U stood Bro. Prince, Bible in hand, with important points written in Hindi script, and occasionally English, for our sakes, on a white board behind him. After the address, there was an opportunity for discussion.
A little later lunch was served: rice and curried chicken, plenty of cold water, and 7-Up. The memorial service took place about 2:30, following a familiar pattern. However, the members of the meeting sat in a square around a low table on which was arranged the bread and wine. The wine had been poured into precisely the right number of small glasses. Kenneth gave the exhortation, translating sentence by sentence into Bangla. We were to get two more opportunities to attend the meeting at the apartment during our visit to Dhaka.
I was invited to give the Bible address the following Friday. I found the experience of talking to an audience in a language only a few could speak, not a little disconcerting. At least I had to speak for only half the allotted time, the remainder of time being for translation. My exhortation on the final Friday was even shorter. I was told later that Bro. Bappy did an excellent job of translation — no small feat, I would imagine!
Dhaka is a city of 11 million people, who seem to be on the move all the time. We found traveling around Dhaka no pleasure whatsoever. Those we visited, and who visited us, lived reasonably close, but these journeys were made on foot, by bus, by rickshaw, or by three-wheel mini-cab, powered by natural gas. Few could afford the price of a taxi, and the motor bike was a popular private conveyance, whereas private cars in Dhaka, at least, belong to the upper strata of society, such as senior army officers and bureaucrats. The Christadelphians’ efforts to travel regularly to the Friday meetings, with their families, by public transport, warrant our greatest respect.
Sunday school is not limited to the Banani flat, but becomes a very important facet of home life for many of the brothers and sisters in semi-isolation. Arla and I were taken to visit such a family at the town of Savar, west of Dhaka; this was a rather tedious drive in a small taxi hired for the day. There we visited Bro. Daniel and Sis. Trina. Bro. Daniel has around 15 neighborhood children in the class he teaches himself. While we were there, Daniel and Nipun questioned the children on their previous class. The proper answers were rewarded with wrapped sweets. The class was held in the home of the parents of one of the children — very obviously, from the room’s decorations, orthodox if not Catholic Christians. At Daniel and Trina’s we had light refreshment and afterward held a short memorial service. I believe that a room has been rented for the Sunday school since we returned to Canada.
On Tuesday, October 2, Ken took a break from work to take us out of Dhaka. We took the train to Chittagong, a name I remember from my seafaring days as the main seaport of Bangladesh. There we transferred to a bus for the journey to Cox’s Bazaar. Shortly after sunset the bus stopped at a village en route, at which a supper was provided for the Muslim passengers, who had conscientiously observed Ramadan by fasting all day. Ken had arranged that Bro. Sajal, in Cox’s Bazaar, should book us rooms for two nights. This allowed us time to meet Sajal and his wife. They both work for World Vision [a worldwide children’s welfare organization], he in the office in town and she at a children’s home at Chowfaldandi, about 28 kilometers north, from which Sajal commutes every day on his motor bike.
Cox’s Bazaar is a tourist town. Our hotel overlooked the Bay of Bengal. The long sandy beaches were very enticing, but use of these beaches was limited to paddling, because swimwear is forbidden as immoral. However I spent much of an afternoon riding with Sajal, trying to book a plane for the following day back to Dhaka, so we could attend the meeting that Friday. I had already declared my refusal to travel by bus to Chittagong, in case the cramped seating might further aggravate my knee, already sore from traveling by rickshaw. The option of a sleeper on the train back from Chittagong still meant a bus trip there.
Eventually we were able to book a flight to Dhaka on Friday morning. It was just as well. I was expected to exhort in the afternoon. Missing the morning Bible study was offset by being able to travel to the children’s home and visit with Sajal and Chom, his wife, in the World Vision home for children. We had a breaking of bread with Sajal before they accompanied us in the World Vision SUV, that Sajal had arranged for us, for the return trip to Chowfaldandi. Back in Cox’s Bazaar we took this lovely family out for dinner at a restaurant close to our hotel . Then they returned home by bus. I was left with a distinct feeling that our inability to book a ticket on a regularly scheduled flight on Thursday was no accident. Even Cooks [a large travel agency], after several tries, gave up. But this allowed for our time with Sajal.
The Friday flight next morning was efficient and comfortable, so that we were back in time for lunch at the Banani apartment, in Dhaka. Chicken and beef curry, and that afternoon another excellent translation by Bro. Bappy at our final memorial service in Dhaka.
Before we left for our return to Canada, Ken took Nipun (with her family), Arla, and myself to the Radisson Hotel. It was “our” birthday and a farewell to us from her family. Two days later we were on our way, headed back to Fredericton, with a stopover (a very expensive one) in London. It was strange to return to our roomy home, quiet streets, and light traffic. Our culture shock was reversed. Sussex Christadelphian Hall and the apartment in Banani were set in different cultures. But the common ground, shared in faith, hope, and love, assures all of us that we shall meet again, when the Lord returns.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One