Deprived but devoted
By Dan C. Pak
In the 1970s and ’80s, the developing countries in Asia were busy with electric power generation and distribution projects trying to catch up with rest of the modern world.
The developed countries in the world provided funds through international lending agencies, including the World Bank, Asian Development Bank, Kuwait Funds, USAID and many others.
The Southwire Company in Carrollton, Ga., a manufacturer and exporter of electric wire and cable, participated in the competitive international biddings to supply transmission cable and distribution wire to these areas for their rural electrification projects.
I was in charge of the marketing operation in the western Pacific and Indian Ocean areas for Southwire at the time. Travel around the world was a part of my job. I called on foreign government agencies responsible for the power grid construction. During long trans-oceanic flights returning home from the trip, I often thought about the people I saw in many countries I had visited.
They were deeply religious people in the middle of widespread scarcity. The abject poverty I saw was heart wrenching. Following is a rambling account of what I observed decades ago.
Each scene is separate and unrelated to the other as it was observed at different localities and at different times. The miserable condition I saw back then probably no longer exists today. The article is intended to acclaim many for their religious devotion; it is not to defame anyone.
Several bony figures in rags emerged from a shack and started to rummage through trash dumps in the northwestern part of India. They were scavengers. Double image came up to me at this point: At the height of the Korean War, refugee camps sprang up around Busan port and surrounding areas.
The scrap wood walls and tin roofs were an eyesore and did not seem to offer much protection against the elements. Some of our people back then did not fare much better off than those scavengers.
One day in Dacca, Bangladesh, the owner of a small steel mill proudly told me, "I managed to live to be 48 years old.” The mortality rate in his country was high in the 1970s. When the taxi stopped at an intersection in the secondary road of Calcutta, India, children rushed up and stuck their hands through the open window asking for handout.
At tourist sites, voluntary guides targeted foreign travelers for any kind of small reward. But the religiosity of the same people everywhere was astounding. It was apparent that their devotion helped them to ease the pain of their dire poverty.
At Calcutta Airport, there was a prayer room. Passengers wanting to pray while waiting to board their flight could enter this spacious room after taking off their footgear.
The room was bare without fancy fixture or ornate decorations. There was a commotion among the crowded passengers at the waiting room at the airport. People made room for several men who spread a mat on the cement floor, and then knelt down and prayed.
I was told that they were Muslims observing a daily ritual. Later back at home in America, some of my friends reminded me of a simple fact that not all Muslims were extremists, the trouble makers.
One day I was the guest of a retired military officer in New Delhi. He showed me his private prayer room in his home. We took off our shoes before entering the small sanctuary. Several sticks of incense were burning in front of the scroll hung on the wall.
The sincerity of the adherents was beyond doubt. The unequivocal devotion of humble people to their respective religion should be a challenge to everyone else around the world.
The writer is a Korean War veteran and retiree from an American firm.