The second I got down from the plane that flew me all the way from Dallas, Texas to Chittagong, Bangladesh I knew I had left my care-free life behind. Already everything I was used to was gone. The air was damp, the soil under my feet squished, and the roads were covered in trash. I didn't know what this forgein place would be like, even though it was my mother country.
I hated it. I hated all the noise and ruckus. I hated that there were people sleeping on the bare concrete sidewalks. I hated that there were barely any cars, everyone traveling in CNG's and rickshaws. Mostly, though, I hated that I knew no one here. A country so far away from the place where I was born.
The first day I walked into my new school, I was clueless. Everyone spoke Bangla, a language I spoke very little of at home. They knew each other from kindergarten, and to them I was an exotic creature from over seas, sharing only the same facial features as them.
Soon though, I learned that I was more like them than I thought. Somehow, the class of 25 shared the principles I had grown up learning. We shared the same childhood, despite living in different country's. It was then that I knew that no matter where I was, I would always have the Bengali ways in me. After knowing this, everything became easy. The Bangladeshi kids learned to accept and befriend the Texan girl.
4 years passed. 4 years filled with multiple hardships, but multiple dying-seal sounding laughs. 4 years filled with thousands of after school activities. 4 years filled with everyone laughing not at me, but with me because of how horrible I was at soccer. 4 years filled with hundreds of crushes. 4 years of bonding with the same 25 people who I had once been afraid to talk in front of, now more than friends to me. 4 years later, I had not only classmates who adored me, but a new family.
Before I knew it, it was time for me to come back to Texas again. I was angry. I didn't understand why I had to leave my home, the place where I had made a family out of strangers. I hadn't realized it before, but pretty soon I knew that I loved Bangladesh. Every little thing about it. Every person laying on the street out of poverty, every cheap way of transportation. I loved how the soil squished under my feet, instantly raising a fresh grass smell to my nose. I never understood how it was possible to love anything unconditionally other than a human being, but when I found out I was leaving Bangladesh, I knew. Maybe it was the people who loved me and shaped me into the person I am today, or maybe it was just the caring environment I found everywhere in that country.
School can teach you a lot, it really can, but a place can change you. It can carve you. Bangladesh brought out something in me, that I know Texas never would have. It made me confident, loving, and beautiful. It made me who I was meant to be.
