Tragedy and happiness

Even people who know little of Bangladesh will probably recognize the words Rana Plaza.

I was one of them. 

Three years ago a building where your and my t-shirts were made, collapsed. More than 1100 people died, 2500 were injured.

Rana Plaza became a symbol of the price of the cheap clothes that we buy. I knew little of Bangladesh at that time and considered to boycott anyting made in Bangladesh.

Now I know better (at least I hope so) and would not boycott these products though the life of most Rana Plaza victims is still unbearable.

I have met some of the survivors. They are unbeliavable: so much energy, so many ideas, so little bitterness.

The garment industry provides over 70 per cent of the total exports in Bangladesh. Four million women sew t-shirts. These women work hard and earn close to nothing but at least they have the opportunity to make some money and maybe some time  they can sell their expertise for more complicated tasks than the simplest garments.  You and I must be willing to pay a little bit more for their work.

Eventually they can send their kids to school for a better future.

On this note, living in Bangladesh has given a new dimension of being happy. 

There is so much poverty, so much misery, so much inhumanity.

 Whenever you open a newspaper you are confronted with the most awful stories of gang rapes, killings, revenge, incurable sicknesses, poverty, frustrating inequality.

Still, people tell all the time that they are happy. They actually look happy. One of my readers commented on this (thank you!). People here have the talent of being happy for elementary thing and they actually show that. 

The other night we met a man who was washing himself and his clothes in the middle of the main street, Dhaka's Fifth Avenue, and was happy. He was happy and showed it. A good lesson for the most of us.