Christmas Eve

On the 24th of December I hadn’t yet heard a Christmas song, gone Christmas shopping, attended a Christmas party, or done anything that comprises a normal Christmas. I knew that less than one percent of the country is Christian, but I thought that the West would have impacted this culture more. As Christmas is a government holiday with days off of work and school many of my co-workers went to their village home to visit family. With the spread of Western culture, there is a huge amount of curiosity about what happens on Christmas. A lot of assumptions about how Americans celebrate Christmas are made based on movies.

On Christmas Eve I went to Mymensingh to celebrate with the Taize brothers. As I rode up to the Taize compound, I saw a huge tent in the field across the road from Taize. Hundreds of buses lined the roads. Loudspeakers were blasting speeches as crowds of men listened and police kept an eye on the security. This wasn’t a Christmas celebration - but a political rally on Christmas Eve.

At the Taize evening prayers the Taize cathedral was decorated with lots of white candles, special tapestries, and a hand-carved nativity set. The service was in the languages of all the people that attended the service: Bangla, English, French, German, Dutch, Mandi, Shantel, and Japanese. We sang two Christmas carols in English – I can count on one hand the number of Christmas carols I sang this Christmas. There was no getting tired of Christmas music this year – it was extra special. After the service we all ate together, and then danced, sang, and ate Christmas cake and tea.

Christmas Day

Bubly invited me to breakfast at her hostel on Christmas morning. She and a few of her roommates who didn’t go home this Christmas made Christmas treats at the hostel on Christmas Eve. So early on Christmas Day I sat in her room and she fed me five different kinds of pitas, Christmas “cookies,” rice pudding, fried banana, and other various treats. After I couldn’t eat anymore, I put on some of her tribal clothing, and she put on a sari. We then set off for the Catholic church, and after having our bags searched by the police, we attended Christmas mass.

Patrick was also at the mass, and afterwards the three of us went next door to visit a French nun who is almost one hundred years old. She has lived in Bangladesh for years and years, and now she is too sick to get out of bed. Her hearing is bad, and the best way to communicate with her is by writing on a chalkboard. The only problem is that though she can speak Bangla, English, and French, reading Bangla and English is not as easy. Since Patrick went to French medium schools, and knows French, he can communicate the best with her. He wrote on the chalkboard, and we were able to converse. She was so old and nothing but bones, but it was a unique experience.

At Taize I ran into Joel, a MCCer who worked in Bangladesh for four years. His service has been finished for almost two years, but he is back in Bangladesh for a visit. When we found out that we were both traveling to Jolchatro from Mymensingh on Christmas Day, we decided to travel together. We arrived at the MCC office in Jolchatro and met Shem, the office supervisor. Shem took us next door and we visited with Shuporna, who works at that MCC office. We were in Jolchatro to attend Shuporna’s wedding. Shuporna gave us our first dinner of the evening, and then Joel, Shem, and I headed to the Jolchatro Catholic Mission for our second dinner with the fathers and sisters. A few of the fathers were serving, and I had my first taste of Bengali hospitality. They asked, “Would you like more goat?” I said no, and they put it on my plate anyway. After dinner the three of us wandered around the villlages and checked out the Christmas celebrations.