Mother Language Day

Last Monday, Bangladesh took the day off in honor of International Mother Language Day, a holiday that holds special meaning for Bangladeshis. I haven’t written very much about this but the people of this country are fiercely proud of their language (something I can understand thanks to the French in my blood I suppose). In 1952, when Bangladesh was still considered East Pakistan, Pakistan attempted to impose Urdu as the national language. This resulted in mass student protests where many students were killed. In Dhaka there is an enormous memorial dedicated to the memory of those who died to preserve Bangla. In Chittagong there is a memorial as well though it is much smaller.

(Lyny and Deepti, Cambodia/Nepal)

(Oanh, Giang, and Tien from Vietnam)

On the morning of the holiday we woke up early and gathered at AUW to march to the Chittagong memorial carrying a wreath of flowers and an overflowing amount of Bangladeshi pride. In a particularly moving show of unity, one of our students holding the wreath was actually from Pakistan. As we began the long walk, collecting stares along the way, I found myself smiling widely. Not only were we the bizarre sight of fifty grown women out on the streets together but our group also consisted of Nepalis, Vietnamese, Cambodians, Chinese, and Americans.

The crowd leading up to the language memorial was enormous and festive. Men sold Bangladesh flags, headbands, bracelets. Faces were painted. Bangla songs sung. Laughing, excited children were out in droves. I usually feel a little wary, at least in my own country, of such fervent displays of nationalism but these kinds of celebrations feel different in countries that are decades rather than centuries old. When Independence exists in living memory, commemoration is not just about the idea but what was experienced.

The next day at school there was a celebration of all of AUW’s languages. Students from each country performed poems or dances or songs in their own mother languages. I was not there but everyone who was, from teachers to students, spoke of the event with incredible emotion. Listening to their reactions, I could not help but think about how the old traditions and ways of those in a new world become acutely precious. Like when one of my Cambodian students said she never thought of herself as Buddhist until she arrived at AUW, until she was placed in sharp relief to the other Muslim, Hindu, and Christian students. Only then did she understand how she was different and who she was.

We work so hard to not have the individual countries band together, to encourage the students to search outside of what they know but there’s no way to fault the impulse to desire the familiar. Especially since we foreign teachers do exactly the same thing. My sense of Americanness and love of country is never more heightened than when I’m not in the U.S. The truth is I usually feel very little when I sing the Star Spangled Banner at baseball games but singing under the Southern sky in a tiny pinprick of a village in Rehoboth Namibia I had to fight back tears.

So much more to write about but I will spare you for now. Trip to Nepal coming up in March. An incredible number of exciting school projects going on. And of course the Cricket World Cup (yes, I understand cricket now). More stories soon...

* Many of these photos courtesy of Calynn Dowler