The 3-hour trip took us over a winding single-lane road, through rice paddies and potholes that could swallow a VW Beetle. Traffic stalled when a large truck ahead of us got stuck in the mud.
The shoulders of the narrow road were lined in places with houses and shops just inches away from our van and hanging out over the river, their backsides supported by stilts.
We marched aboard a rusty old shallow-draft boat singing "O Canada" and waving the Canadian flag that always accompanies us. I took this picture through the open hatch. The crowd typifies the kind of curious attention we attract everywhere we go.
After almost an hour on the river, subjected to the deafening noise of the engine, we arrived at Naria, and clambered up a rain-soaked mud bank to the footpath leading to the village.
The villagers had erected a large canopy on a bamboo frame to keep us and the kids dry for the picture-taking, but this plan collapsed along with the canopy as wind and rain assaulted us without let-up.
We moved our operation indoors, using a funeral bier (used to carry
the dead to the cemetery) as a backdrop for the kids' pictures.
We distributed 800 kits, and then reversed our journey after sharing a light meal with a family in the village. Of course, we were soaked and had to sit in our wet clothes the four and a half hours back to Dhaka. None of us complained. We could only say how lucky we are to be having this adventure, seeing things we couldn't have imagined, and putting a big smile on a lot of kids' faces.
Must be ready for a 7:00 a.m. start tomorrow, so will sign off for now.
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