বৃষ্টিতে হাঁটতে ভাল লাগে আমার কারন কেউ দেখেনা দুচোখের জল ধুয়ে যায় বৃষ্টিধারায়

পাঠক প্রথমত আমি সকলের কাছে ক্ষমাপ্রার্থী এই পোস্টটি ইংরেজীতে লেখার জন্য । যেহেতু লেখাটি আমি আমার দোভাষী জর্জ মবোয়ু এর উদ্দেশ্যে লেখেছি ,তাই তার পড়ার সুবিধার্থে লেখাটি সম্পূর্ন ইংরেজীতে দেয়া হল । Prelude George, my friend one day you saw me writing some articles in Bangla in a renowned website named SOMEWHEREINBLOG. You requested me to write something about you and let to know others that you love my country .I kept my words and this is my confirmation. STORY OF A BLACK WOODS George Mboyo, a mirror for me through which I saw the face of Africa. Who’s glittering eyes shows me the hidden distress of a Congolese man. ”HEY CHIEF” a sweet friendly address from him often gave me an immense joy and fellow feelings during my staying in Congo. In my mission period I was posted to Mbandaka, one of the provincial towns in Congo. The first day when I landed to Mbandaka airport, I was introduced with my interpreter a Blackman named George Mboyo.When I first saw him, his jolly and cheerful face drew my attention towards him. The initial days in the office relation was limited with him as an interpreter. But gradually he crossed the hurdle of an interpreter relation .And I came to know a little bit more about him. My interpreter George Mboyo was the Adam’s bridge between me and Africa. He helped me to comprehend the unparallel beauty of Africa. I started see a different view of Africa which was totally apart from my earlier portray regarding this continental. George Mboyo was my interpreter and sometimes he became my English & French teacher as well. He exchanged his view with me concerning religions, world politics, culture and the history of human civilization. He was a man of near 50 years age who graduated from a renowned university in Congo. Prior to the civil war in Congo he started his life as an English lecturer in a collage. And there after he served as a supervisor in HABITAT FOR HUMANITY an American company. I was lucky enough that I got him as my interpreter. He expands my vision regarding Congo and helps me to find out the concealed suffering of a Congolese. I able to identify the pain of an African man and found the same face which I saw during my relief work in rural villages of my own country. There was hardly any difference between this two faces. Can you remember George? One day you were surprised to see a man with black skin in my country TV channel and asked me how this African man came to my country and speaking Bangla.I assured you by saying that he was not an African rather a Bangladeshi village people. But you didn’t ask me regarding his sorrow and pain. Actually it was same just like the colour of our blood. We worked together and shared our sorrow and pain for a year. Whenever you faced a problem I took it as my own problem. You always felt sorrow that you couldn’t offer me a valuable gift . And at the end of my mission you gave me a wonderful gift which I had ever seen in my life. You named your new borne daughter as ASHIQUE GEORGE, which showed your respect and affection towards me. I really don’t know how to say thanks by receiving this magnificent admiration from my own Congolese man. You told me that the doctor of the hospital and the father of the church asked you the name regarding ASHIQUE and you said all of them, this is the name of a man to whom you like and love. And you said the last night before my departure from Mbandaka that you will tell my story to your daughter and one day you will send her to Bangladesh from where her name ASHIQUE was came. George my friend you told me the story of your own village .The nearby forest where the long giant tree stands more than 400 years and people called those tree as black woods .You told me these black woods are very strong and costly. I found you all Congolese are like the black woods .you were suffered and tortured more than 200 years but still I saw the dreams in your eyes .I saw the dazzling light in your hearts. Standing against all the difficulties the Congolese never forget to see the dream. Dream for a better future, a country without poverty and hunger. As a foreigner I respect your dream ,I salute your struggling for the existence .And as a member of a third world country I found we are the comrades of the same revolution. Someday, somewhere we will meet again my friend .May be in this world or another world better than this one. A world , where our children will live and laugh together. Note George you know my english writing.Do I need to say anything more about it?Thanks for your kind patience to read this stuff.