Bangladesh Village Homestay: Becoming One of the Family
This is the story of a homestay experience in rural Bangladesh — and a young woman who hopes to be Prime Minister one day.
There I was in a traditional courtyard kitchen in a village in Bangladesh. Dirt floor, earthen oven. Mrs. Ali, our host mother, stoked the fire and minded several hot pans. It was time to slice the onions and my turn was up.
I held a small one between my hands. To avoid cutting my fingers off with the blade of a curved knife-edge secured between my feet, I’d narrowed my focus. Mrs. Ali and her college-aged daughter, Asmani, were curious. Nervous too. They had good reason to be. I’d cut many an onion before in my life, but never quite in this way.
Slowly, I pushed the onion through the blade, almost to the end. Then I turned it to cut the other way. My fingers remained intact and the onion was sliced — not finely or perfectly, but cut. Mrs. Ali threw the onions into a hot frying pan, added dabs of a few of her spice pastes, and continued to stoke the fire just so.
I think I passed the test; a bowl of okra appeared next for me to cut.
More: http://www.uncorneredmarket.com/2011/09/bangladesh-village-homestay/