How can we not believe in miracles if we see them every day? ¿Cómo no vamos a creer en los milagros si los vemos todos los días?

Today one of our small dreams -- which was at the same time a need -- has become a reality. It was to have a vehicle to visit the tea plantations villages. The communities we serve are scattered over an area of 100 km in length by 60 km wide around Sreemongol. We had asked for help to buy the motorized tricycle that you see in the photos; in Bangladesh they are called CNG (Compressed Natural Gas) and are normally the vehicles humble people use as taxis to move around. We didn't want a spectacular off-road, but something simple and cheap not getting us too far away from the reality of the poor people we serve. Well, it happened that someone has sent us the money needed for it. How can we not believe in miracles if we see them every day? Thanks to God and thanks to their emissaries, who on this occasion have been Emilio, Merche and Mary, our special angels. Curiously, on our way back home in our brand new CNG people were surprised to see a couple of foreigners driving such a humble vehicle, and more than one has taken pictures from us...

Hoy hemos hecho realidad uno de nuestros pequeños sueños, que era al mismo tiempo una necesidad. Se trataba de tener un vehículo con el que poder visitar los poblados de las plantaciones de té. Las comunidades a las que intentamos servir están diseminadas en un área de 100 km de largo por 60 km de ancho en la zona alrededor de Srimongol. Habíamos solicitado ayuda para comprar el triciclo motorizado que ves en las fotos; en Bangladesh se les llama CNG (Compressed Natural Gas) y son los vehículos en los que la gente humilde se desplaza normalmente utilizándolos como taxis. No queríamos comprar un todoterreno espectacular, sino algo sencillo y barato que no nos alejara de la realidad de la gente pobre a la que servimos. Pues bien, hete aquí que alguien nos ha enviado el dinero necesario. ¿Cómo no vamos a creer en los milagros si los vemos todos los días? Gracias a Dios, y gracias a sus emisarios, que en esta ocasión han sido Emilio, Merche y Mary, nuestros ángeles particulares. Por cierto que en el camino de vuelta a casa montados en nuestro flamante CNG la gente se sorprendía al ver a unos extranjeros conduciendo tan humilde vehículo, y más de uno nos ha hecho fotos.

The murky waters of a bleak future. Las aguas turbias de un sombrío futuro

How you can clean something in water dirtier than what you want to wash. Well that is what happens daily in Sreemongol tea plantations area, as you can see in the photo. The water they use for drinking and cooking is not much cleaner than this. Result: gastroenteritis, diarrhea, intestinal worms, and... a certain degree of immunity. If I drink this water I will spend a couple of days "running", while their stomachs are slightly more tolerant than mine. Explaining things about hygiene is hopeless if there are not decent facilities. This is the miserable condition to which many people are subjected in the tea plantations in our area. Unaware, these two girls keep washing the "luxurious" family tableware in the murky waters of the bleak future that awaits them. Unless we are able to help breaking their fake vicious cycle providing them with a quality education. And this is the point we are at.

Cómo se puede limpiar algo con un agua que está más sucia que lo que quieres lavar. Pues bien eso es lo que pasa diariamente en las plantaciones de té alrededor de Srimongol, como puedes ver en la foto. El agua que usan para beber y cocinar no está mucho más limpia que ésta. Consecuencia: diarreas, gusanos intestinales, gastroenteritis, y… un cierto grado de inmunidad. Si yo bebo de esa agua me pasaré un par de días “haciendo carreras”, mientras que sus estómagos son un poco más tolerantes que el mío. No sirve de nada explicarles cosas acerca de higiene si luego, en la práctica, no se les ayuda con instalaciones higiénicas decentes. Éstas son las miserables condiciones a las que muchas personas se ven sometidas en las plantaciones de té de nuestra zona. Mientras tanto estas dos niñas siguen lavando la “lujosa” vajilla de su familia en las turbias aguas del sombrío futuro que les espera. A no ser que logremos ayudarles a romper el círculo vicioso de su destino proporcionándoles una educación de calidad. En eso estamos.

A primary school in the tea gardens. Una escuela primaria en una plantación de té

Visiting the parish's primary school at Hooglichora Tea State, with Sister Irene Naunar, RNDM, who is in charge of the project (36 primary schools inside the tea plantations). We, Marist Brothers, will join this effort to improve education in those schools, as part of the project that we are starting to build in Moulovibazar. Note the poor condition in which the teachers have to work (no benches, no electricity, no facilities, no books, no notebooks, a single teacher for all the academic levels…

Visita a la escuela primaria parroquial de la plantación de té en Hooglichora, con la Hermana Irene Naunar, encargada del seguimiento de las 36 escuelitas primarias en las plantaciones de té. Nosotros, los Hermanos Maristas, trabajamos junto con ella para mejorar las condiciones de la educación en esas escuelas, como parte importante de nuestro proyecto de construir una escuela secundaria en Moulovibazar. Fíjate en las paupérrimas condiciones en las que los maestros tienen que trabajar, sin bancos, ni pupitres, sin electricidad, sin servicios básicos, sin libros ni cuadernos, un solo maestro para todos los niveles juntos…

Nuestros vecinos. Our neighbors

This is the nearest house to the land in which we want to build our school in Moulovibazar. Here live our neighbors, Jubaher and his family. We have hired Jubaher as a watchman. His wife works in the adjacent tea plantation. This means that the house doesn’t belong to them; it is the company’s property. As you can see it's a single room where parents and children sleep, the walls are of mud and bamboo canes, the roof I leave you to ask yourself if you could live under those conditions. They have no electricity or running water. Those are our neighbors; for them, for their children and for the thousands of families like them in the Moulovibazar area is for whom we are dreaming our school. A dream that can become a reality and get out of their misery hundreds of children with your aid and our work, and with the help of God.

Ésta es la casa más cercana a la finca en la que queremos construir nuestra escuela en Moulovibazar. Aquí viven nuestros vecinos. Jubaher y su familia. A Jubaher lo hemos contratado como vigilante de la finca. Su esposa trabaja en la plantación de té adyacente. Esto quiere decir que la casa no les pertenece, sino que es de la compañía propietaria de la plantación. Como puedes ver se trata de una sola habitación donde duermen padres e hijos, las paredes son de barro y de cañas de bambú, el tejado te lo dejo para que tú mismo/a te preguntes si podrías vivir así. No tienen luz eléctrica, ni agua corriente. Estos son nuestros vecinos; para ellos, para sus hijos y para los miles de familias como ellos en la zona de Moulovibazar es para quien estamos soñando nuestra escuela. Un sueño que puede convertirse en realidad, que puede sacar de la miseria a cientos de niños con tu colaboración y con nuestro trabajo, y con la ayuda de Dios.

El polvo del camino. Dust on the road

Back home after a visit to the plantation of Horinchora, near Sreemangal, in the jeep of the parish, plying the dusty roads at this time of the year, we have passed by your side when you also went back home after working on the tea garden. Both of us return home: but I go by car and you walk, I wear shoes and you're going barefoot, a bed with mattress awaits me but you will only find a bare wood table, dinner-hot with rice and fish is waiting for me but you will have only rice, in my house there is electricity and in yours not. In addition, passing by your side we have covered you with dust and you had to protect your face with your gamsa. Forgive me for having so many things "from birth", having done anything to deserve it. Forgive me because you don't have anything like that having done anything to deserve it. I hope that your children can live better than you; I hope that they can go to a decent school and have a future better than your present.

Al volver a casa tras una visita a la plantación de té de Horinchora, cerca de Srimongol, en el jeep de la parroquia, surcando los caminos polvorientos en esta época del año, te hemos adelantado cuando también tú volvías a tu casa después del trabajo en la plantación. Los dos volvemos a casa: pero yo vuelvo en coche y tú andando, yo llevo zapatos y tú vas descalzo, a mí me espera una cama con colchón y a ti te espera una desnuda tabla de madera, a mí me espera una cena caliente con arroz y pescado y a ti sólo el arroz, en mi casa hay electricidad y en la tuya no. Además, al pasar a tu lado te hemos cubierto de polvo y has tenido que taparte la cara con tu gamsa. Perdóname por tener tantas cosas “de nacimiento”, sin haber hecho nada para merecerlo. Perdóname porque tú no tienes nada de eso también sin haber hecho nada para merecerlo. Ojalá que tus hijos puedan vivir mejor que tú, ojalá que puedan ir a una escuela decente y tener un futuro mejor que tu presente.

Poor among the poor. Pobres entre los pobres

Food consumption, income and poverty in the Tea Gardens of Bangladesh 

 A recent study (Assessment of the Situation of Children and Women in the Tea Gardens of Bangladesh, UNICEF, September 2010) found that about 74 per cent of households in the tea gardens fall below the absolute poverty line, compared to the national Bangladeshi average of 38.4 per cent, and about 50 per cent fall below the hardcore poverty line, compared to the national average of 19.5 per cent. The daily food intake of an average household member is 761.5 grams, which is lower than the minimum 934 grams required for balanced nutrition, and the average daily calorie intake per household member is 1,956.5 Kcal, which is close to the average level found among the hardcore poor (1,805 Kcal) and lower than the average level among the absolute poor (2,122 Kcal). The average calorie intake in the USA is 3,770 Kcal, and 3,270 Kcal in Spain.

Consumo de alimentos, ingresos y pobreza en las plantaciones de té de Bangladesh 

 Un estudio reciente (evaluación de la situación de los niños y las mujeres en los jardines de té de Bangladesh, UNICEF, septiembre de 2010) encontró que cerca de 74 por ciento de los hogares en las plantaciones de té cae por debajo de la línea de pobreza absoluta, en comparación con el promedio nacional de Bangladesh de 38.4 por ciento, y cae cerca de 50 por ciento por debajo del umbral de la pobreza crónica, comparado con el promedio nacional de 19,5 por ciento. El promedio de ingesta diaria de alimentos de una persona es de 761,5 gramos, que es inferior al mínimo de 934 gramos necesarios para una nutrición equilibrada y la ingesta de calorías diarias promedio por persona es de 1,956.5 Kcal, que está cerca del nivel promedio encontrado entre los pobres crónicos (1.805 Kcal) y más bajo que el nivel promedio de los pobres absolutos (2.122 Kcal). (El promedio de calorías ingeridas por persona en los EE.UU. es de 3.770 Kcal y 3.270 Kcal en España.)

Worse than the officers’ pets. Peor que las mascotas de los capataces

“We live in places worse than that of the officers’ pets (at the estates). Many of us have only a thin jute mattress to sleep on,” describes a tea worker about their living condition.

"Vivimos en el lugares peores que los de las mascotas de los capataces (en las plantaciones). Muchos de nosotros tenemos sólo un colchón fino de yute para dormir," describe un trabajador té sobre sus condiciones de vida.

They do not have any chances. No tienen ninguna posibilidad

Survey result shows that education status of the tea gardens area is very poor. A major portion of adult garden people (65-80%) are illiterate and 20-35% people did not cross even primary level of education. Not a single worker was found who studied in high school since they have to fight for their livelihood from very early age. They do not have any chances to utilize their skill in intellectual level and interact with educated people.

Encuestas realizadas muestran que el estado de la educación en la zona de las plantaciones de té es muy pobre. Una gran parte de los adultos de las explotaciones (65-80%) son analfabetos y 20-35% nunca terminó ni siquiera la escuela primaria. No se encontró un solo trabajador que haya estudiado en la escuela secundaria ya que tienen que luchar por su supervivencia desde muy temprana edad. No tienen ninguna posibilidad de utilizar sus habilidades intelectuales e interactuar con gente educada.

Haziras. The fake money. La falsa moneda

At the Tea Museum in Srimongol we can see a glass case with a collection of coins, called haziras. The coins were minted by the estate owners themselves, and served as payment to the workers. As the coins could only be used on the estate, it ensured the owners that any worker who might try to escape, would have no money to return home or survive outside the confines of their tea garden.

En el Museo del Té de Srimongol se puede ver una caja de cristal con una colección de monedas llamadas haziras. Estas monedas fueron acuñadas por los mismos propietarios de las plantaciones de té y servían para pagar a los trabajadores. Dichas monedas sólo eran de curso legal en las plantaciones y aseguraba a los propietarios que ningún trabajador pudiese escapar puesto que no disponía de dinero para volver a su pueblo ni sobrevivir fuera de los confines de la plantación.

Miserable and inhuman. Miserable e inhumano

Sanitary condition of tea garden is miserable and inhuman. Children feces are generally disposed to nearby water bodies or throwing in the jungle. Sometimes feces are also washed under tube wells or thrown in the yard. The problem is acute with female residents who have to wait in a queue for longtime for defecation, or use a neighbor latrine if available. Almost half of the people do not have any proper latrine facilities. It is observed that many people are using a single latrine. At least 10 persons use one latrine and sometimes the number of users increases to 40.

Las condiciones sanitarias en las plantaciones de té son miserables e inhumanas. Las heces de los niños son arrojadas cerca de masas de agua o directamente a la jungla. A veces se lavan en pozos o se tiran al patio. El problema es aun más agudo para las mujeres, que tienen que esperar largas colas para defecar, o utilizar una letrina cercana si está disponible. Casi la mitad de las personas no tienen las instalaciones de letrinas adecuadas. Una sola letrina sirve para un gran número de personas. Al menos 10 personas por letrina y a veces el número de usuarios aumenta hasta 40.

Predestined future. Predestinado

In the tea gardens of Bangladesh a family must have at least one worker to qualify to stay in the labor line or in the house given by the company or employer. If a worker loses his or her job, or retires and has no other member in the family to become a tea worker, he or she will lose the house given by the employer. The labor line is the last place for a tea worker. The situation in most cases leads the child of a tea worker to become a tea worker.

En las plantaciones de té de Bangladesh una familia debe tener al menos un trabajador para poder quedarse en la casa proporcionada por la compañía. Si un trabajador pierde su empleo o se jubila, y no hay ningún otro miembro de la familia para trabajar en la plantación, perderá el derecho a vivir en la casa. La “labor line” (grupo de casas de la empresa) es el destino final de un obrero del té. En la mayoría de los casos las circunstancias obligan a que el hijo de un obrero del té se convierta irremediablemente en un obrero del té.

Desprotegidos. Unprotected

Without gloves, without mask, without any protection. Foremen refuse to protect their workers from the poison of insecticides.

Sin guantes, sin mascarilla, sin ninguna protección. Los capataces se niegan a proteger a sus trabajadores del veneno de los insecticidas.

Trapped. Atrapadas

It is 11 o’clock with the sun burning down from a cloudless sky. Dopho and her friend Surma are told to cut the tea shrubs along with a group of other women. Two supervisors watch the work. The workers must bring their own tools. Knives which cost 155 taka, three days’ wages, are used to cut the hard wood. The many hours of working in a stooping position goes into the bones. Mostly, the night is not enough for the body to recover but no one dares to miss a day. Surma confesses that she sometimes reaches her limit. “But I have to go on,” she says. Her face shows no expression. What alternative does she have? Her parents before her, worked as tea pickers. “The biggest problem is the house,” Dopho explains soberly: “If I would look for a different work, I would have no roof over my head anymore.” Most people think alike. This is the right of the tea companies. The rent free living, the isolated villages and the many years of refusal by the government to allow schools here all created this dependency from where they cannot escape.

(This post is taken partially from the missionay magazine KONTINENTE)

Son las 11 de la mañana y el sol arde en el despejado cielo. Dopho y su amiga Surma han recibido la orden de podar las matas de té junto con otras mujeres. Dos capataces las vigilan. Los trabajadores tienen que traer sus propias herramientas. Cuchillas que cuestan 155 takas, tres días de su salario. Las muchas horas de trabajo encorvadas les cala hasta los huesos. A menudo, el descanso nocturno no basta para recuperarse, pero a nadie se le ocurre faltar al trabajo al día siguiente. Surma confiesa que a veces llega al límite de sus fuerzas. “Pero tengo que ir a trabajar”, dice con una cara sin expresión. No tiene alternativa; sus padres antes que ella trabajaron como colectores de hojas de té. “El principal problema es la casa”, Dopho explica sobriamente, “Si me fuera de aquí a buscar otro trabajo, perdería la casa y no tendría un techo bajo el que cobijarme. “ La mayor parte de sus compañeras piensa igual. Es la “ley” de las compañías del té. Casuchas gratis para vivir, aldeas aisladas y demasiados años durante los cuales el Gobierno rechazó la creación de escuelas dentro de las plantaciones han creado una relación de dependencia de la que no pueden escapar.

(Este post ha sido tomado parcialmente de la revista misionera KONTINENTE)

Black hole. Agujero negro

I feel like apologizing for showing Pako Bhuiya, his wife and their child in the intimacy of the one-room house where they live. Even though they allowed the camera inside, I have some reservations about displaying so much human misery. Not a single piece of furniture, a stove where they fry some rice and prepare some tea, a plastic bag serve as a carpet and is the baby’s crib as well, hens nibbling what they can on the mud floor, and a bamboo stick holding the thatch roof. That’s the way the tea garden workers live in Bangladesh; a black hole from where they can’t escape and where they have been trapped for four generations now. I think we should be ashamed for these situations in which people put other people. We have committed ourselves to take their children out of that, building a high school for them in Moulovibazar (see the project here). Please, if you can, help us here.

Casi quisiera pedir perdón a Pako Bhuiya, a su esposa y a su hijo por esta intromisión en la intimidad de la casa en la que viven. A pesar de que aceptaron que la cámara entrase en su única habitación me da un poco de reparo mostrar tanta miseria. Ni un solo mueble digno de ese nombre, un fogón en el que fríen un poco de arroz y preparan algo de té, unos sacos de plástico sirven de alfombra y de cuna al niño, las gallinas que picotean lo poco que encuentran por el suelo, y un tronco de bambú que es el pilar que sostiene el techo de paja. Así viven los trabajadores de las plantaciones de té en Bangladesh: en un agujero negro del que no pueden escapar y en el que llevan atrapados desde hace cuatro generaciones. Yo creo que debería caérsenos la cara de vergüenza por ésta y por otras situaciones en las que las personas ponemos a otras personas. Nosotros nos hemos comprometido a sacar a sus hijos de ahí construyendo para ellos una escuela secundaria en Moulovibazar (ver proyecto aquí). Por favor, si puedes, échanos una mano aquí.

A land flowing with milk and honey. Una tierra que mana lecha y miel

Tea plantation at commercial scale started in Bangladesh region in 1854, when the current country belonged to the Indian province of Assam. Local people were not interested to work there due to the hard manual work that implies. The British companies brought people belonging to the “untouchable” Hindu communities from different parts of India to work in the tea gardens in Sylhet region, promising them that they would be given a beautiful piece of land and that they would work in a land flowing with milk and honey. After more than 150 years and several generations, those people and their families depend exclusively on the companies running the Tea plantations. The house where they live is not theirs, they have no own land to cultivate, no possibility of saving any money... their only possession is their work force. They have no choice, because, outside the Tea plantation they have nothing: no roots, no history, no social standing in their own country.

Las plantaciones de té a escala comercial comenzaron en la región de Bangladesh en 1854, cuando el país aún pertenecía a la provincia India de Assam. Los nativos de la región no estaban interesados en esta clase de trabajo debido a la ardua labor manual que implicaba. Las empresas británicas trajeron entonces a personas pertenecientes a las comunidades hindúes "intocables" de diferentes partes de la India para trabajar en los campos de té en la región de Sylhet, engañándoles y prometiéndoles que les darían un hermoso pedazo de tierra y que trabajarían en una tierra que mana leche y miel. 150 años y varias generaciones después, los trabajadores y sus familias aún dependen exclusivamente de las compañías propietarias de las plantaciones de té. La miserable casa donde viven no es suya, no tienen tierras para cultivar, sin posibilidad de ahorrar la mínima cantidad de dinero... su única posesión es su mano de obra. No tienen elección, porque fuera de la plantación de té no tienen absolutamente nada: viven sin raíces, sin historia, sin status social en su propio país.

His future broke into a thousand pieces. El futuro se le rompió en mil pedazos

Sumon is a 15-year-old boy. He studies 2nd year of secondary in the small school run by Holy Cross priests in Srimongol (Bangladesh) for the tea workers children. The boy has managed to go further in studies than anyone else in his family; at the cost of immense sacrifices. Sumon is not a whiz, but with effort and tenacity, has been passing course after course. He’s got dreams and hopes for the future. Completion of the studies, to find a decent job, to take his family away from the plantations hell. And suddenly one morning, his future broke into a thousand pieces. Someone announced him that his mother just died. If someone from the family doesn't take his position on the plantation, they will be ejected from the miserable house in which they live. Sumon is the eldest of his brothers and sisters, the only one who can replace his mother. So he had no choice; he left school to go bury her mother and never came back. Now he is probably tied to a machine, grinding tea leaves 8 - 10 hours a day or spreading insecticide on plants without any protection. His future broke into a thousand pieces.


You who are reading this, could you help us to get to the greater number of boys and girls in this situation? We offer you the possibility to do something important for them. Click on DONATE and do what you can. Thank you.

Sumon es un chico de 15 años. Estudia 2º de secundaria en la escuelita que los sacerdotes de Holy Cross tienen en Srimongol (Bangladesh) para los hijos de los trabajadores de las plantaciones de té. El chico ha logrado llegar más lejos en los estudios de lo que nadie de su familia había conseguido nunca. A costa de inmensos sacrificios, todo hay que decirlo. Sumon no es una lumbrera, pero con esfuerzo y tesón, ha ido aprobando curso tras curso. Tiene sueños y esperanzas para el futuro. Terminar los estudios, encontrar un empleo digno, sacar a su familia del infierno de las plantaciones. Y de repente, una mañana, su futuro se rompió en mil pedazos. Le anuncian que su madre ha muerto; si alguien de la familia no toma su puesto en la plantación, serán expulsados de la miserable casa en la que viven. Sumon es el mayor de sus hermanos, el único que puede reemplazar a su madre. Así que no tuvo elección; dejó la escuela para ir a enterrar a su madre y nunca más volvió. Ahora estará probablemente atado a una maquina triturando hojas de té de 8 a 10 horas al día, o esparciendo insecticida sin protección ninguna sobre las plantas. Su futuro se rompió en mil pedazos.

Tú que lees estas líneas, ¿no podrías ayudarnos a sacar al mayor número posible de chicos y chicas de esta situación? Te ofrecemos la posibilidad de hacer algo importante por ellos y ellas. Pincha en DONATE y haz lo que puedas. Gracias.

Education is the only way out of poverty

“The wage is low.  It is not enough to live on,” says Ruchina Dufo lethargically.  She has probably said this many times yet nothing has changed.  With this starvation wage which the 43 year old earns as a tea picker, she has to feed her four children and her sick mother.  Her sick mother is paralyzed from her hips to her feet so she spends her monotonous days on a roughly hewn wooden flat bed.  It is the only piece of furniture in the house.  A couple of sheet metal pots, a kerosene lamp, a blanket, which she spreads across the mud floor when it’s time to sleep – they own no more.

Ruchina confesses that she sometimes reaches her limit.  “But I have to go on,” she says.  Her face shows no expression. What alternative does she have?  Her parents before her, worked as tea pickers.

“The biggest problem is the house,” Ruchina explains soberly: “If I would look for different work, I would have no roof over my head anymore.”

Most people think alike.  This is the right of the tea companies.  The rent free living, the isolated villages and the many years of refusal by the government to allow schools here all created this dependency.

For herself, claims Ruchina, she has no hope left. Maybe her children will experience better times.  She knows education is the only way out of poverty. 

This is an extract taken from the German made Kontinente Magazin, specialized in Missions.

Tea workers’ wage hiked by 14 Taka (15 cents of euro!)

Here you are an article published in the local newspaper “The Daily Star” saying that the tea gardens workers salary will be increased by… 14 Taka (15 cents of euro) a day! What shocks me is that the worker’s leader says “We are very happy!” They are very happy with 60 cents of euro a day… OMG!

The daily wage of tea garden workers has been enhanced by Taka 14 with effect from June 1. Earlier, it was Taka 55.

The decision was taken at a tripartite meeting held at the labor ministry on May 28. Presided over by Labor and Employment Minister Rajiuddin Ahmed Raju, the meeting was attended by leaders of the workers and representatives of tea garden owners. The meeting was called urgently following a report of The Daily Star on the poor wages of the tea garden workers and their other problems on May 25, said a tea workers’ leader. The last time wages of the tea garden workers were increased in 2009. Bijoy Prasad Banerjee, a tea workers’ leader, said, “We are very happy over the increase of the workers’ daily wage by Taka 14.”

Our dream

The Marist Brothers arrived to Bangladesh 6 years ago. It was a new country for us. It has been necessary to start everything from scratch, including learning Bengali language, networking, meeting people, letting us know, getting used to the climate, to the food, to the idiosyncrasy of the wonderful people of this country, the most densely populated in the world.

During these first years we have been collaborating with other institutions (in Pirgacha, Dinajpur, Srimongol and Mymensingh), learning about the Bangladeshi educational system, studying the many possibilities and proposals that have been offered to us.

In the range of possibilities to work, we have finally chosen one: to provide education to the children of the workers in the tea plantations.

Why this choice? The criteria were as follows:

- Choosing a particularly needy population group

- Going there where others could not or did not want to go

- The workers in the tea plantations in Bangladesh are possibly the most disadvantaged social group in the country. The conditions in which they live and work border on what we might call modern slavery; their conditions are much tougher than those of employees of the textile workshops, sadly famous after the incidents at Savar (Dhaka), Pope Francis did not hesitate to describe it as slavery and has mobilized the sensitivity of much of Western societies.

The project we want to carry out consists of a secondary school for the children of tea plantations workers, and boarding house for boys and girls.

For this purpose we have located a site in a small town called Moulovibazar, in the region of Sylhet, just adjacent to tea plantations. We must buy the land and then build the first stage, consisting of a school (ten classrooms, two floors) and boarding school for girls (capacity 100 people, two floors). The rest of the project, which would include the boarding school for boys and the expansion of the school, will come in a second phase in the medium term.

The Marist Brothers want to do something to bring this people out of their plight

Beautiful Tea plants

Last week I visited along with other people the tea plantations that the Finlay Company owns at Srimongol, northeast of Bangladesh. There I have seen that in the 21st century slavery (or semi-slavery) still exists in the world. Workers in the tea plantations, working 8 hours a day, receive a salary of 48 takas (less than 50 cents of Euro a day). They live in houses (houses?) belonging to the company. They have the right to live in these houses while they work on the plantations, otherwise they are expelled. It is allowed only one person per family to work in the plantations, implying that the 48 takas are the daily family wage, not the person wage. We can easily understand that it is impossible to save any money, so that they cannot leave and go to another place; people in the tea gardens stay chained to the Company for ever. If a worker dies, another member of the family may take place; there have been cases of children who were studying at secondary school, for whom a better future seemed to be open, which have had to drop out of school because their father or mother died and had to replace them on the plantation, else the family would be expelled.

All I say of Finlay Company applies for all other companies having tea plantations in Bangladesh. It is a shame; I'm outraged. The Marist Brothers want to do something to bring this people out of their plight and are going to build a secondary school for their sons and daughters. It will be a long, difficult and expensive process, but we will try. They are the poorest of the poor in Bangladesh and it is worth it, with the help of God.