Musing on a Passion
“Each individual person is very important. Each person has tremendous potential. She or he alone can influence the lives of others within the communities, nations, within and beyond her or his own time.” [1]
-Dr. Muhammad Yunus
It is early morning, and I am sitting in my studio in Goldsmith Hall, one of the most beautiful buildings on campus. I sit in solitude, folksy autumn music playing softly in the background. Bright sunlight dapples through the window like molten gold, playing across the mess of architectural models and sheaves of rolled up drawings strewn about the many drafting tables.
What is my passion?
I have plenty – too many to name, in fact. I fall in love with so many things, simply fascinated by the newness and diversity of everything I learn and experience. If I could do anything I wanted, I’d take Anthony Bourdain’s job in a second and travel for a living. I would pack up and move out into a beautiful coastal yet forested location, preferably near mountains, where I could live in a cottage and simply paint and write all day. I would bake bread and pastries in a small village. I would get a job in fashion and design sustainable, eco-friendly, edgy clothing. I would be a jewelry designer. I’d be a mother. I’d be an anthropologist. I’d write the entire history of the world from the point of view of the victims. I’d be an activist and fight for Native American rights. I’d defend Islam and Muslims, and all misunderstood people across the world. I’d join the UN and work for world peace. I’d open an art gallery and use the proceeds to build safe schools for girls in Afghanistan.
If I had a thousand lifetimes to live, I still wouldn’t have enough time to do everything I’d like to do.
However, I DO have one life to live, and a story to tell, and my story is my passion.
Your story starts from Day 1.
I come from Bangladesh. I was born in the United States, but my ancestors hail from the Indian subcontinent. Ever since I was a child, my parents have instilled in me the belief that I am as Bangladeshi as I am American, and that I owe a huge part of my identity to my ancestral culture. Roots, they taught, are key to who individuals are – just as important as the choices they make and the steps they take on their life journey. To teach my younger brother and me about our culture, they’ve been taking us to Bangladesh every couple of years since the time I was born. Straight after I was born, in my case – I celebrated my first birthday there.
My very first birthday party.
When I was younger, I didn’t have the maturity to appreciate how much I was learning. I simply drank in the alien sights, sounds, smells, and flavors with childlike wonder. It was certainly a veritable assault on the senses. I can recall impressions, flashes of memory that aren’t quite clear, like dashes of paint dulled by layers of dust. There’s the red-gold sense of intense heat, the cool blue of linoleum floors, the deep sepia of claustrophobia from crowds of unwashed, sweaty people. There’s the blinding white from fear of crazy traffic and speeding vehicles that look like a single blow could knock them apart. The bright orange from food infused with spices, and cool mint of fresh fruit exploding in my mouth. I clearly remember the deep purples of love and camaraderie and family – that was my favorite part of going back. I loved the sense of being showered in love.
My wonderful family threw me a huge surprise birthday party when I turned 16.
Clearest of all memories is a deep sense of confusion, a sense of wrongness, a sort of non-color, that came from the poverty surrounding me. I can see the dirt and grime and trash littering the roads. I can see children and old men in ragged clothing squatting next to mountains of crushed bricks at construction sites. Women knock on windows, begging for cash, their faces sun-darkened and prematurely lined. Young girls too young to take the role of mothers have baby siblings on one hip as they struggle to survive in a harsh world. Boys and girls who ought to be in school walk up and down streets past cars, selling strings of flower necklaces and useless toys and magazines for paltry coins.
A young teenage boy selling flowers in the rain.
It’s heartbreaking to think about. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if my grandfathers hadn’t left their villages and fought to get educated. What would have happened if they’d married women in their villages? If my grandmothers never met my grandfathers? If my parents had never got married? Would I exist? Would I be a farmer’s daughter? Would I live in poverty? Would I be educated?
“If you think creating a world without any poverty is impossible, let’s do it. Because it is the right thing to do.” [2]
- Dr. Muhammad Yunus
Questions like these are haunting, but critical to who I am, and to the story I will write. Thinking of where my life could have gone has instilled in me an appreciation for the life I have. I know that I owe it to myself and the country that has given me so much to give back in any way that I can. How can I do so though? What are my strengths? What do I truly believe in?
I am passionate about making a difference. I am passionate about art. I am passionate about history and culture and people. I am passionate about education and women’s rights.
I've become friends with these young women and girls who left their families in the village to work for my grandparents. In exchange, they recieve shelter, food, pay, and from my grandparents, love.
The best way to combine these passions, I figure, is through architecture. Nothing impacts human beings quite so completely as their built environment – we don’t realize it, but we are influenced on a very basic level by where we live, work, learn, and spend our waking and sleeping hours. For example, the reason I came to Goldsmith to work on this paper was for the inspiration I derive from my very surroundings. The soft sunlight warming the quiet air perfectly complements the music notes dancing around me. I am at peace in the solitude, and my thoughts come easily, eager to be written into my story.
It may not be quite so obvious to the first world, but third world countries feel the lack of adequate architecture with painful poignancy. Most of us have a home, a sturdy roof over our head, climate control, and adequate food supply. We don’t literally fight for our survival day to day. As children, we didn’t have to fear night as the time to run away from gangs who would mutilate us, force us to become beggars, and then steal our money. We weren’t “slumdogs,” forsaking our education in order to keep our family afloat. Child labor isn’t everyday life. Cyclones don’t rip apart our tin roofs, and flooding isn’t a part of the year. There is never a shortage of schools to attend, and none are too far away to attend. There is never a time when shelter is impossible to find.
This is an excellent video that deeply inspired me when I watched it awhile back:
As an architect, I hope to change the conditions in Bangladesh. I want to help develop the nation and spur it towards the status of a first world country by building the infrastructure necessary to development and economic success. Every couple of years that I visit, I notice the huge changes that are taking place – the country is developing rapidly, and I want to be a part of that. However, when a country develops so quickly, the unfortunate problem is that it tends to copy the successes of other nations and thus forsake the creation of its own unique identity. That’s how the concept of “Westernization” came about. I’d like to keep this from happening. The culture of this country is so rich and saturated with unique traditions that it’d be a shame to hide its character with a completely unrelated façade. Success occurs by celebrating differences and uniqueness, not by imitating others. It would be truly amazing to get the opportunity to utilize my creativity to pay tribute to Bangladesh. I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling, artistically, than to have one of my designs establish a national identity.
That kind of thinking feels too ambitious though. What I’m MOST passionate about is directly affecting the lives of individuals who most need it. And I’ve realized that those who need it most are young girls.
Queen Rania
“We know that if you get girls into schools and keep them there, you can change the course of a nation.” [3]
- Her Majesty Queen Rania, QueenRania.jo, June 2007
One of my top role models is Queen Rania. She is the glamorous Queen of Jordan who has made it her mission to educate people about Islam and modern Muslims, as well as fight for education for young girls. Women’s rights are HER passion, and I admire how fiercely she advocates her cause. Dr. Yunus, the 2006 winner of the Nobel Peace Prize for founding the concept of microloans, has steadily been chipping away at poverty by primarily taking women as clients of his Grameen Bank.
My father was a student of Dr. Yunus!
The two heroes have inspired me to seriously look at the situation of women in a third world Islamic country like Bangladesh. Although Islam adamantly states that women are equal to men, most Islamic countries have fallen shamefully short in putting the theory into practice. The solution, as Queen Rania has so aptly deduced, is education. Education keeps women from being downtrodden by empowering them. This has to begin early – the process of enlightenment, of instilling self-confidence and a hunger to succeed must begin early. I can’t imagine where I would be without the education I’ve received. I’d like to do my part by building schools to ensure that girls who are not as fortunate as I can still benefit. If I could help one child break free of the cycle of poverty, I would know that I’ve done something right.
The METI Project is a gorgeous, sustainable school built in Rudrapur by volunteer architects Anna Heringer and Eike Roswag. It is one of my main inspirations.
How does all this fit into my life plan? Do I have any idea how to actually go about putting my dream into practice?
I think I do. At least, I’ve got some sort of idea – I’m leaving the story still in a sketch, open to seeing how things change and where the world tosses in a few challenges and blessings. Anything could happen, but if I had it my way, my story would involve a study abroad or internship in Northern Europe for my Residency in my fourth year as an architecture student. For one thing, I really love Scandinavian design, but what’s more, countries like Norway are heavily involved in NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations) and non profits in Bangladesh. It would be a radical change from my safe life now, and hopefully put me on the track to artistic philanthropy. Beyond that, I don’t have any real plans. I know I want to acquire a fine arts degree from Oxford and earn a PhD in architecture so that I can one day be a professor. These ideas seem solid – things I can achieve.
The story I’ve just laid out sometimes seems less so – it seems scarier, more uncertain, and slightly impossible. At other times, there is nothing that seems more real to me. I cannot imagine myself doing anything else – it would seem too mundane. Anything else would fall short – a dream need not always stay a dream. It can become real. It can become your life. It can become your story.
I can’t wait to write more of mine.
Word Count:
Without Quotes: 1827
With Quotes: 1920
Images:
1. springfieldpubliclibrary.com
2-5. family photographs
6. foshowley.wordpress.com
7. family photograph
8-9. http://inhabitat.com/2007/09/06/aga-khan-awards-school-in-rudrapur/
[1] Muhammad Yunus, “Quotes by Professor Yunus,” Yunus Centre, http://www.muhammadyunus.org/Quotes/.
[2] Muhammad Yunus, “Quotes by Professor Yunus,” Yunus Centre, http://www.muhammadyunus.org/Quotes/.
[3] HRM Rania Al Abdullah, “Her Majesty Queen Rania Al Abdullah,” Rania Al Abdullah: Queen of Jordan, http://www.queenrania.jo/media
No comments:
Post a Comment