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