Traveling, creating memories with our older parents
In Search of 'Bari': A Journey to Bangladesh with My Father
By Guest Writer Fatema Haque
In May, I traveled to Bangladesh with my father, who suffers from late stage Lewy Body Dementia. For months, he’d been talking about going home. Every day, he’d pack up his clothes, put on a jacket, and prepare to head out. When we asked him where he was trying to go, he’d say, “bari” or “ganger pare.” His village home was near the Kushiyara river, so much of his reminiscences featured it. Occasionally, he’d talk about Ambarkhana and Mojumdari, Sylhet, neighborhoods we lived in when my brother and I were younger.
Always, home/bari was Bangladesh.
Traveling with an elderly person with dementia required a lot of preparation. I checked in with all his doctors, worked with the incredibly helpful people at Fair Sky Travel, and coordinated with family members in Sylhet. My aunts, uncles, and cousins all checked in about what he’d need. Did I need to sleep in the same room as him? What did he typically eat and what can’t he have at all? Does he need a wheelchair? A cane? Can he handle stairs? I felt lucky to have family members who thought through these details for me and welcomed us back.
The flights to Sylhet (four in all) were challenging. My dad did well on the shorter flights, but when it came to the 13-hour long ones, he struggled. He wanted to leave. He couldn’t recognize that he was on an airplane, so he assumed all he had to do was walk out the door. By the time we landed in Sylhet, he hadn’t slept much and was fairly out of it. I hadn’t slept much either and my patience ran thin.
Despite the long, grueling journey, our arrival in Bangladesh marked the beginning of a connective, healing experience. Our family greeted us with love and care. They saw to our every need: my aunt had bought my dad and I light cotton clothes because it was warmer than anyone had anticipated; my uncle had green coconuts waiting to keep us hydrated. They’d arranged for both a wheelchair and a cane for dad. Every detail was thought through.
Their care improved the quality of my dad’s life dramatically.
In America, he has limited social interactions. In Bangladesh, there were constant visitors and people who sat with him and talked to him. My cousins played ludo with him or just hung out in the same room as him. I was with him, too, 24/7, something I can’t do here in America.
I started to understand more about what triggered my dad’s desire to wander – any time he was bored or lacked social stimulation, he wanted to leave. We were staying in the city, and he’d occasionally say he wanted to go to his bari. I asked why, and he said, “There are lots of people there. There are so many people there.” People, connection, a sense of belonging. It’s remarkable that even when our brains are scrambled by an illness, we return to our desire for connection.
The most challenging part of the trip was to witness our family’s grief. Because I’ve been dealing with my father’s worsening dementia for years, I had gone through the various phases of grief. Our family, on the other hand, hadn’t realized the extent of his illness, and grasped it with tremendous sadness. They constantly reminisced about who dad used to be, how sharp his mind was, how helpful he’d been to everyone over the years, and how funny he was. Even in this, though, I could see how beloved my father is and it became an opportunity to learn stories about him that I’d never heard before.
When we returned to America a month later, I cried uncontrollably leaving him to the care of my brother and sister-in-law. I’d been with him all day every day for over four weeks, and that time had felt like a gift. I knew I would never have such time with him again.
No future visit to Bangladesh would ever have my dad with me like it has every time we’ve returned in the last 30+ years. It was an ending I didn’t feel ready for, but had arrived at nonetheless.
What I learned on this trip is that my dad’s lifelong ties to Bangladesh are now my own, more than they’ve ever been, and that’s something to be grateful for.
If you are considering traveling with an elderly loved one, I highly recommend the following:
Use a travel agent to book your travels. They can communicate with the airlines should anything needs to be changed and it’ll reduce your burden tremendously. This includes securing oxygen if your loved one needs it while traveling (oxygen concentration decreases by as much as 20% when flying at high altitudes and for the elderly, this could be incredibly dangerous).
Do not take any detail for granted. Talk over all the needs with your family back home.
Be prepared to have your loved one checked out by doctors at the travel destination (in Bangladesh). I had my dad complete a full workup a week after we landed to make sure he was okay enough to fly back. The system is different (lots of waiting, night time appointments), and will require a great deal of patience, though the care is excellent.
Consider traveling in the winter when the weather is more amenable. We went in May, just as the monsoon season was starting off, and many places experienced heavy flooding.
Other headlines:
Protests continue in Bangladesh as people demand answers on why people were killed in recent weeks, from unrest of the quota reform system. At least 200 people were killed, and thousands were injured, including children. Protestors are calling on Bangladesh’s Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to step down amidst the unrest.
Funeral services were held last week for Melvindale Police Officer Mohamed Said, 26, who was killed in the line of duty. Hundreds attended his funeral to commemorate him. Community members also held a toy drive and are collecting money for a fundraiser in his honor. Michael Lopez, 44, was arrested and is being charged with multiple charges for Said’s death.
CAIR-MI says there is a continuous increase in anti-Muslim and anti-Palestinian discrimination incidents this year.