The Visit

Doly Bhottacharjyo met Frieda Noose at a party the aunt of her husband had organized. The two had a few things in common.

Doly was born in India and had grown up in different countries, since her father was a diplomat.

Frieda was Colombian and had spent the first four years of her life in Bogota, before her parents moved to the US.

Both had gone to university, were married and had young daughters.

Doly told Frieda about her work as a human rights lawyer at a charity, helping acid attack victims. Frieda was intrigued and asked if she could visit the charity to see what they were doing. Doly wasn’t sure if it would lead to anything, but she liked Frieda, so she agreed.

 

A few days later Frieda, who was dark haired, brown eyed and had a heart shaped face and olive skin, arranged the visit with Doly.

 

Doly wore business attire. She wanted to be taken serious and believed if she wore Western clothing it would help. At home she preferred to wear saris or a salwar kameez, a body shirt and pantaloons. Doly had some feminine touches too, like long black hair and large golden hoop earrings. She was 1.52 m tall and a bit shorter than Frieda.

Both were curvaceous.

 

“Welcome. I’m glad you could make it, Frieda.” Doly greeted Frieda warmly and hugged her. “I’m glad I could make it too.” “If you’re ready I’m giving you the grand tour.” “I am.” Doly explained what the different departments did and introduced Frieda to her colleagues. Doly provided Frieda with some statistics too. “There were officially 222 attacks last year. They involved 277 people and the majority were women.  The main reason for acid attacks is sexually motivated, for example a woman refuses a proposal. Other justifications are a too low dowry, conflicts over property, religious believes or social and political activism. We offer help from the beginning. We identify and investigate attacks, make sure the victims are brought to our hospital, which is specialized in the treatment of acid burns, offer psychological support, rehabilitation and reintegration and provide legal support. Of course we also have awareness campaigns. Our approach pays off. The numbers are down, but there is still much to do and too few funds available. I wished we could afford more beds at the hospital.” Frieda nodded in agreement. I’ve heard many times, that there is never enough money around. Can I see the hospital too?” “Of course.” The hospital was located in the outskirts of the city in a small, low rise building. It was clean and state of the art, which surprised and impressed Frieda. All beds were occupied. The patients were four women, a man and a young girl. The women weren’t related and all had been in different incidents.

“This is Bushra. Her family in law was unhappy about the dowry. They claimed her parents and her husband’s parents had agreed on a higher amount and Bushra was useless and lazy, so they dowsed her in acid.” The acid had burned away most of the skin of Bushra’s face including the left eyelid, which had caused blindness. Frieda was glad the victim’s face was covered in bandages. She would have had troubles looking at the wounds without recoiling. “Zineea refused a suitor, so he attacked her. The same with Yeasmin and Dina. Zahir and Lucky are father and daughter. They were not the intended victims. They were waiting for a taxi and standing beside a stranger, who was attacked. Father and daughter were splashed by mistake. Frieda tried hard to hide her horror. Yeasmin’s head had deformed. Zineea, Dina and Zahir had lost one ear each and their hearing. Lucky had been burned across her right arm, leg and part of her torso. Frieda saw red scars sneaking up her neck.  Some had lost their nostrils too. Frieda’s heart went out for them. She decided to help on the spot. Doly said: “It’s really great you want to help. We always look for volunteers…” She was skeptical, though, if Frieda would keep her promise or get fed up or bored. The work was very lowly and mundane, like cleaning the floors, preparing meals for the patients or assisting the nurses, administration work or fundraising.

“You also need to get a written permission from your husband that you can work here.” Frieda wasn’t taken aback. She knew men enjoyed a higher standing in Bangladeshi society than women did and that they were the property of their husbands. Since she couldn’t change this, she accepted it. “I will get it.”

Her husband Fin didn’t mind Frieda wanted to work for charity while their three year old daughter Casey was in kindergarten. He was willing to work around Frieda’s schedule, if necessary.

Having overcome this hurdle, Frieda started volunteering.

 

She was at first eyed suspiciously, because there weren’t many foreigners working at the charity. It was obvious Frieda came from a privileged background and some of the staff were betting how long she would last and which work she would refuse to do.

 

On Frieda’s first day she was asked to clean the floors of the hospital. She hadn’t any problems with it. Thank goodness most of the staff spoke English, so they could easily communicate. “Okay, tell me where I can find the equipment.” Frieda was shown where the cleaning material was stored and what she had to clean. Frieda minded her own business and got some ground covered. She had seen a handyman with his case at the fuse box. He had left the doors of the box conveniently open. Frieda had a glance inside before closing them.

She returned to mopping the floor. Frieda stopped dead in her tracks, when she saw the man again. This time around he was about to repair an outlet. Having scanned the fuse box, Frieda realized the electricity hadn’t been switched off. “Stop!” she shouted. The electrician gave her a condescending smile and continued. Frieda dropped everything and tackled the man, before he could insert the screwdriver. They both fell. The electrician got up and shouted at her in Bangla: “Tumi ki pāgala? Ēkaṭā gādhā!” Whatever it meant, it wasn’t something friendly. Frieda cowered, when the upset gentleman made the impression of wanting to kick her. He got his temper under control, but continued to swear. Zainab, one of the nurses, had been attracted by the commotion. “Zuti, what is going on?! Why are you shouting like a mad man? Did I hear right you called Frieda crazy and a stupid cow?” Zainab was older and well respected, so Zuti looked immediately abashed and accepted Zainab’s chiding. The conversation was held in Bangla. Frieda couldn’t follow. She only understood her name. Zuti explained rapidly what had happened. Zainab believed Frieda must have had a good reason why she tried to stop Zuti, so she asked her for an explanation in English. “I prevented Zuti from being electrocuted.” Zainab translated what Frieda had said, while Frieda herself got up as well. Zuti shook his head in disbelief. He said: “But I have switched off the electricity for this section!” “No, you haven’t.” Frieda replied calmly, even if she would have preferred to strangle Zuti. They went to check and realized Frieda was right. At least Zuti was man enough to realize his error and to apologize sincerely to Frieda. She accepted graciously. Zuti felt very bad about the situation. It was the first time he encountered a female, who had some knowledge about science. Of course Zuti had heard there were female engineers and math teachers, for example, especially in the West. Frieda felt a bit awkward when Zuti stared at her as if she had two heads. Zuti tried to see if there was something different about Frieda. He couldn’t identify anything unusual. For a woman she had very short hair. That was the only thing Zuti could recognize. “Are you an electrician?” Zainab asked Frieda, breaking the spell. “No, I’m an electrical engineer.” Zainab translated for Zuti. Both were suitably impressed. Frieda only realized then that she probably had scraped her knee. “Okay, let’s have a look at it.” Zainab said briskly, overcoming her surprise and sudden shyness. Zainab ushered Frieda into a treatment room. The injury wasn’t that bad. It looked like Frieda was going to have a bruise, but there weren’t any open wounds. “Okay, I’ll suggest we cool it for a while and you can rest in the kitchen.” Babar was a bit surprised to see Frieda so soon again and with a slight limp. Zainab told Babar what had happened. “Oh, you deserve something sweet!” Babar exclaimed. He had just finished chomchom and dished out a few to Frieda. It was a connotation made with flour, milk, sugar, lemon juice, saffron and coconut flakes. The little balls were delicious and calmed Frieda. After half an hour of rest she returned to her work.

Frieda was wondering how she was going to explain her sore knee to Fin. Her husband was protective.  Knowing Fin he would not let it rest until he felt he had dealt sufficiently with Zuti. Frieda sighed. She hated lying, so she was going to tell Fin the truth and try to convince him to forget about it. Frieda had dealt already with the situation, so there was no need for Fin to get involved. Speaking of the devil Zuti approached Frieda, who was a bit apprehensive. He had asked Babar to teach him an English phrase. He thanked Frieda for preventing him doing a stupid thing. “Don’t mention it.” Zuti wasn’t entirely sure what Frieda had said, but gathered from her smile that she didn’t hold a grudge and had forgiven him. He was glad. Still Zuti believed he had to make it up to her. It would have been awful if his wife and son would have had to fend for themselves after his death.

 

Of course in the evening Fin wanted to hear everything about Frieda’s first day. He frowned, when she told him about the incident with Zuti. “Should I have a word with him?” “No, that’s not necessary. I have solved the issue. Promise me you won’t interfere.” “Alright.” It wasn’t easy for Fin, but he had given his promise, so he didn’t approach Zuti and threaten him as he had planned.

 

At the charity the incident between Zuti and Frieda had spread quickly. It caused Frieda’s co-workers to see her in different eyes and positive. Still some were envied and when possible they abused their position. Chandna tried her best to proof Frieda felt superior and make her leave. She gave Frieda chores most didn’t like, for example cleaning the toilets. Frieda did them without complaining and to her best ability. She preferred, though, to help Babar in the kitchen and picked up how to prepare Bangladeshi meals and rudimentary Bangla. It made communication easier. Some of the victims didn’t speak English at all, so it came in handy.

Frieda bonded with Lucky, whom she often assisted getting dressed or fed, because she couldn’t use her right arm and it was difficult for her to eat with the left hand. Another issue was the traditional believe, which was followed by Zahir and Lucky that the left hand was unclean and shouldn’t be used at all for eating.

Zuti turned into an ally and close friend.

Another girl asked shyly if Frieda would tutor her boy. He had problems with math. Frieda agreed easily.

Originally Frieda had thought she would spend three months in Bangladesh. It turned into half a year, because Fin’s plans changed. He got himself involved in the charity. Doly had recognized his organization skills and knew he was well connected, so she asked him to help fundraise, which was just up his street. If Frieda hadn’t become pregnant they might have stayed longer. It was sad to leave. Still Frieda didn’t forget the burn victims or her new friends. She supported them from abroad and sometimes returned to Dhaka to keep updated.

©2017