There's no doubt that my time here in Bangladesh has been exhilarating, exciting, and inspiring on a multitude of levels. But I can't deny that this country, for all its captivating people and places, has taken a toll on me. Beyond hunger and thirst, past disease and deprivation, I've seen the loss of dignity and hope that comes with the grinding poverty that haunts 40% of this country's population, or 156 million people (according to 2005 World Bank statistics). I see it every night in the prostitute who is a single mother of two and "sells her wares" on the corner across from our building, charging a humiliating 300 taka per customer (less than $5 Canadian). I see it every morning on the walk to work as I pass countless beggars: the wrinkled old woman with incredibly thick glasses, who must be at least 70 years old but has lost both legs and so is forced to drag herself along the sewage-ridden street with her hands, and in the young boy who has been burned so badly that he barely has any skin left. I was overwhelmed with it in a cruelly ironic moment as we left a restaurant with air conditioning that was almost too cold and uniformed waiters: on the sidewalk was a pregnant woman and her son (no more than 8 years old and naked) sprawled on the sidewalk, and whether they were sleeping or dead was a question that none of us had the courage to ask.

I argue with myself everyday about how anyone can possibly make a meaningful difference in the midst of such suffering? Whom do you help first - the prostitute selling her body, the old woman with no legs, the pregnant woman without food for herself or her children, or the young boy with no skin? And given harshly limited resources, what's the best way to help? Ideally, you'd give all those who need it, access to education, medical care, clean water and sanitation facilities, while ensuring that there are proper incentives for the recipients to actually make use of such services. The creation of jobs which make it possible for individuals and families to sustain and expand these benefits is also essential. These measures are the bare minimum, and don't even address the underlying causes of poverty. Dealing with the deeper problems, such as widespread corruption in the government and police force, a lack of lucrative natural resources, and severe vulnerability to natural disasters (all of which apply to Bangladesh's case) is much more challenging.

The massive scope of the issues that face this country on its road to development have alternately made me feel scared, discouraged and dis-empowered. I still have no clear answers, no for-sure feeling about whether almost half the nation's people will manage to pull themselves out of poverty within the next 10, 50 or 100 years, and no sense about whether the corruption that is so pervasive here will subside. But the country has seen change, strong and uplifting, in many areas: in the development of the garment industry which has provided jobs (leading to 6% average GDP growth over the last six years), in the effectiveness of the NGO sector which has improved the lives of thousands through providing food, education, clean water and credit, in life expectancies that have risen as maternal mortality and birth rates have dropped. And I see the end result of these changes, and that's what makes me believe that the path to development is more than a wild goose chase: when I meet people who grew up with seven siblings but have chosen to only have one or two children themselves, when I see the delight on the faces of children and adults as the NGO that I'm working for successfully tests out the new pipe and filtering system that will provide the 700+ slum residents with clean drinking water, when my room-mates and I cook noodles and play cartoons for a gang of skinny street kids every week so that they can - for at least a few hours a week - have the chance to actually be kids.

Moments like those don't make me think that the challenges of development are any easier or smaller, but it does make me realize that progress on a smaller scale is still progress, and is still meaningful in a way that dollar figures and statistics can't possibly capture. And more than anything else, that's what has made my time here truly eye-opening.

Image gallery from Raksha and Helen 

"It's a bit ridiculous that people assume just because we come from countries that have managed the issue of HIV relatively well, that we know how to manage the issue."

"Exactly, it is because our countries have managed the issues well, that I don't know anything about it!"

This was a conversation I had with an intern from the United Kingdom working for another non-governmental organization. He has been semi-coerced into giving a workshop on HIV/AIDS, but he has not received training on the issue, and felt extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

When I left Montreal to pursue my internship in Kenya, I did not expect much. I only knew that I wanted to make a positive impact on the community; and that after volunteering with HIV-positive children in Montreal, I wanted to work with the issue of HIV/AIDS through awareness and thus prevention.

However, after I attended community outreaches with my work, and ran a few sessions myself, I started to see a different picture.

While the sessions for primary schools appear to be somewhat worthwhile for the students, it is another situation for the youth. For instance, in a group session I attended, there was no need to explain what HIV/AIDS stood for, how the virus attacks the immune system, the incubation period, the window for testing, or the routes of HIV transmission. The participants knew all the answers. So how can the sessions be run in a manner that is not a waste of time for them?

There are many public and private institutions that strive to inform the public about HIV/AIDS, and by this point, Kenyans are very knowledgeable about the virus, and how to protect themselves. Instead of lecturing about the hard facts of the virus, now it is perhaps more effective to focus discussion on the stigma of AIDS, and why contraceptives are still not used, even when people understand the risks. Faced with such a knowledgeable crowd, the trainer becomes a facilitator and a question-and-answer format appears to be much more effective and enjoyable for the participants than a plain lecture style on information that has already been disseminated.

What I said to my friend at the beginning of the post was actually a paraphrase from a book called The White Man's Burden by William Easterly, which examines the ineffectiveness of foreign aid. He raises the concern of Western donors wanting to create one-size-fits-all, comprehensive, umbrella solutions without being sensitive to different cultures and realities in the field, which leads to poor implementation and aid that does not reach those who need it.

I find that my internship has been a humbling experience that makes me strongly aware of how difficult the process of "helping" can be. Without an understanding of the reality on the ground, it is almost impossible to propose any solutions that can be successfully implemented. One can have the best intentions and the greatest ideas, but if there is no need for the great idea, or if it is not feasible in the local reality due to cultural, religious, or financial limitations, then it is not useful.

For those who would like to work abroad in development work, I strongly urge you to spend time with the locals from the area, immerse and understand the culture, and then discover how you can make your own unique contribution in that community to maximize your impact.