Misery and miracles

 

 

 In Bangladesh it's unnecessary to travel anywhere to see poor people since there is an abundance of needy persons just outside our house.

But while living in Dhaka I have become a frequent traveler in misery tours. 

Sounds depressing but often the saddest things offer the biggest miracles.

Last week I joined my husband to a field trip in Khulna, Bangladesh's third largest city in the southwestern part of the country. 

We visited a couple of Dalit villages and a Dalit girls' shelter in Khulna. 

Dalits are the lowest in the Hindu cast system, they look just like any other Bangladeshi people, they speak the same language but they are severely discriminated.

They are pushed out of schools, they have no chance of getting a job, they lack electricity, water and other infrastructure, they are not served at cafees, they are not even allowed their last rest at common graveyards. Most of the oppressive acts are  prohibited by law but still exercised. 

Many of the Dalits are illiterate and are not able to demand their civil rights. 

To make things worse, many Dalits practice child marriages due to poverty and ignorance.

Thanks to dedicated of NGOs' efforts the situation is improving.

An organization called Dhruba gives shelter for girls escaping child marriage and domestic violence. 

Many of the girls come from families  where they are the first ones with any education at all. With their background, they should have been shy and insecure but we met a bunch of hilarious, sharp and ambitious girls. They want to become doctors, lawyers and decision makers. 

"We cannot afford small dreams, we need to aim at the top", as one of the girls said.

"Please, pray for us", the shelter leader whispered in my ear. Miracles can happen.

ps. I don't publish pictures of the shelter girls. But they are gorgeous.

Highway robbery

We were on our way to a village wedding, admiring green fields and the beautiful nature.

Suddenly there was an elephant in front of the car. 

Elephants are surprisingly big animals. 

And rather loud. 

I don't speak elephant language but had no difficulties in understanding that the creature was yelling for money.

The owner had done a good job in training the giant. The elephant was both scary and funny at the same time.

Its trunk was waiting for the payment just outside the windscreen. Only 100 taka or bigger  notes  (about a dollar) were accepted. My husband accidentally tried to give it a 10 taka note which resulted in a threatening movement against the car. Luckily, a bigger note had a calming effect. 

Actually, the episode was entertaining, well worth the illegal road toll.

The day after we met two elephants close to our home in Dhaka. Now totally cool in the meeting-an-elephant - situation, I just pushed the elephant's trunk away and winked to the owner. 

The weather is at its coldest and the wedding season at its hottest. A countryside  wedding had a special charm with half a village enjoying the wedding lunch, women in their best clothes, men in more relaxed outfits. All - except two foreigners - eating with their fingers. 

After the first round of guests had emptied their plates, the next crowd took over and the tables were quickly filled with new heaps of rice, chicken, vegetables and dessert. Amazing logistics. 

After the lunch the guests made portions of paan, especially those underage.

Paan is a kind of liquidless cocktail made of betel leaves filled with e.g. areca nuts, tobacco, slaked lime. The chewable cocktail gives a kick to any party - and a red shade to one's teeth.

Six months down, 18 to go

I don't count time this way but it's a fact that we have lived in Bangladesh half a year and will leave in the summer of 2017.

I prefer a list of what Bangladesh has done and not done to me so far.

And how little I have managed to do for Bangladesh.

Most important are all the new people. We knew absolutely no-one here but have now been blessed with the warmth of many kind, interesting and wise people.

Nowadays I pay little attention to honking, shouting, prayer calls, construction noices. All these sounds have become a kind of loud bangla muzak, you cannot escape it but it doesn't really bother any more.

I think that my hearing in general has impaired slightly.

My eyes are used to rikshaws, burkhas, ancient working methods, crowds, snots, rubbish. 

I don't have the urge to take another 5000 pictures of battered buses or day laborers in dangerous situations.

But my heart still aches when I see blind and limbless beggars, child poverty and hard working people's everyday struggle.

I try not to see people urinating and spitting in the overcrowded streets. This is not possible since then I should walk eyes closed all the time.

I used to do workout in one of the most exlusive gyms in New York City. In addition to first class exercise they offered unending amenities from sauna to complimentary towels, lotions, shampoos whatever.

Now I am happy to exercise at an international club with the most elementary equipment and one single shower with ailing water pressure. I share the dressing room with three million mosquitoes.

But the water is warm.

Wonderful, since we only have ice cold water at home. Washing hair with icy water is totally possible but very uncomfortable. And literally: freezing. 

One gets used to many new things.

The most amazing thing I have learnt in Bangladesh is patience. 

I used to be a everything-must-be-ready-yesterday -person. This kind of attitude is not possible if you are jammed in the Dhaka traffic or trying to get a functioning internet connection at home. Things happen when they do, just not exactly now. 

My contribution to the local society?

People like to stare at my fair complexion wrinkles and thin hair, maybe it's entertaining.

My inabilities at the tennis court have offered a good laughter to many.

The seventh season

There are seven seasons in Bangladesh. They are summer, rainy season, fall, late fall, winter and spring. That is six.

The seventh - my clear favorite  - is the wedding season. 

Timewise the wedding season coincides with winter from November to February. 

Not too cold, not too hot, just happiness and joy. And a lot of food.

In the evenings one can see  whole streets decorated with lights and flowers to mark the venue of a wedding celebration. Even a bad day feels better just by admiring all the beauty.

In wealthy Bangla circles one single wedding equals numerous parties for hundreds of people: the closest family, the not so close family, relatives, friends, colleagues. 

I have never before seen so many beautiful dresses, glittering jewelry, towering heels and perfect make-up at the same time and at the same place. 

Not to talk about the mountain of gifts and walls of flowers accompanied by music, dancing and food. 

So much delicious food. 

The happy couple is in the center of the events, sitting like smiling royalty on a scene. The guests take pictures of the bride and groom - and with the bride and the groom. For hours.

So far (hoping for more), we have been invited to two weddings here. 

We started softly with a reception at the first wedding and advanced to two parties with the second one. 

All events have names, traditions, coreography, colors and dress codes. 

As a newcomer I simply operate with the concept of a wedding.

The pictures in this posting are from my husband's colleague's son's wedding. 

Attending a whole wedding looks like a marathon. Maybe it's the idea. A preparation for the marathon of a marriage. 

Different parties, rituals and seremonies can take a week, plus a couple of weeks filled with after-parties, after-rituals and after-seremonies. 

Lavish weddings must be a blessing for the national economy, too. 

The wedding business feeds everybody from catering companies to beauty parlours, dress makers and florists. 

Plus fitness studios after the season.

Dhaka Shake

Round 5 this morning our bed was shaking like crazy - and not for the right reasons. 

Even my really, really heavy sleeping husband woke up and analyzed the situation immediately: an earthquake.

And so it was. 

The epicenter of the 6.7 tremor was 350 kilometers northeast of Dhaka, in India. 

I looked out of the window and saw people on the roof tops in the neigboring buildings. 

We went back to sleep.

Our live-out housekeeper S. had rushed out to the street and spent the rest of the night there together with hundreds of others.

According to local news reports, at least three people died and dozens were lightly injured when they panicked out of their apartments. Some buildings are still tilting.

Experts say that Dhaka is one of the riskiest cities for earthquakes in the world. Due to poor construction quality and the density of population (average 45 000 per square kilometer), the consequences of a bigger quake would be catastrophic. 

Bangladesh and Dhaka have had more than their share of hardship, problems and sorrows.

So please, no more earthquakes.