Got the Canadian entry visa, no fuss, no hassle, only an encounter with a kid with the worst case of tooth decay. So I’m waiting in the waiting room at the appointed time of 130pm this afternoon, and this little maybe-4-year-old boy comes and sits next to me. He’s trying his level best to get my attention while I try my level best to ignore him, cuz you just don’t pay attention to random kids here. Finally, after all his antics, I smile and ask what his name is and he says it, and asks mine, so I answer. His mum asks him to call me aunty. Just a note…anyone older that you meet in Bangladesh, you call them aunty or uncle, and if they’re younger, but older than you then you call them sister/brother. Anyway, so once we’ve introduced ourselves, he starts proudly showing me how many teeth of his are rotten. Basically, they all are. All his front teeth and even his molars. Once he’s amused himself with that, he starts singing in a dialect I know is Sylheti, but don’t understand what he’s talking about. And then he starts talking to me. All the while his mum is standing there entertaining his baby brother. What’s the little guy saying to me? Something about not going somewhere or they’ll shoot me!!! I had to laugh out loud, and everyone in the room could hear what he was saying. God only knows why. And he didn’t say it once, he said it over and over about 5 times. What was going through that kid’s head? I’m happily home now, away from the crazy kid, and waiting for my sister to come home from school.
No new outfit today, but a nice old one.
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