Up in the air

 The capital of a nation is often very different from the rest of the country. 

In Dhaka's case this is very true. Dhaka is a hyperactive, polluted and noisy megacity. Most Dhaka people travel back "to the village" whenever they have the chance.

I was fortunate (yes, once again) to join a helicopter tour from Dhaka to Chittagong and clearly see the difference between the 20 million inhabitants' capital and "the village". 

From the air the capital looks like an unorganized nest of buildings after buildings after buildings, the countryside a vast plain. 

At two hundred meters we were low enough to see all the wonderful colors, small villages, cows, river boats and bridges but high enough not to see the rural misery, hear the noises and feel the smells.

There were many rivers, man made ponds, natural lakes, shrimp and fish farms. Finally, the sea side with long beaches, closer to Chittagong also the ship wrecking yards.

The largest part of the tour was, however, an unending chess board of green, yellow, brown, grey and black fields. Wet fields, dry fields, blooming and barren fields. 

Food, in other words.

Bangladeshis think of food a lot, eating is a national sport. 

For the tens of millions poor Bangladeshis earning a meal is a daily struggle while rich people fight against obesity.

Rich or poor, people are unbelievably hospitable. 

A dinner invitation by an affluent host can be a challenge. As a newcomer I made several times the mistake of believing that the starters were the main dish. After many rounds of salads, pies, vegetables, small and big other dishes, the table was suddenly loaded with the main courses: fish, mutton, beef, chicken, vegetables and rice. More is not enough is the principle.

Rice is inevitable. There is no meal without rice. You can eat a whole pizza and then go to dinner. Why? Because there was no rice with the pizza.

After a while, I have learnt to eat slowly. If your plate shows the smallest signs of an empty spot, it will be heaped up with all and everything.

When you feel that you are about to explode, it's time for the dessert: sweet cakes, sweet ice cream, sweeter than sweet yoghurt. 

The pictures are hazy, it was slightly foggy, and there is a lot of pollution in Dhaka. Plus I am an amateur photographer.

Devastating start to 2017

 Last year in Bangladesh was rather challenging. This year didn't start very well either.
On Tuesday a furious fire destroyed a large Dhaka market with more than 300 stores. While the flames were swallowing the market and the future of thousands of people, an earthquake frightened the rest of the country.



"I lost my store and my income, so did my brother who also had a store here", told a shopkeeper when I visited the ruins of Gulshan 1 DNCC market on Friday.
Smoke still rose from the rests of his store, it was burning hot. And certainly not safe, the building could collapse any time.
Half burnt lingerie at his store was covered with black ash and rubble. It looked sad and it felt hopeless.



All over the ruins one could see burnt shoes in heaps, blackened shampoo bottles, mountains of ashy rubbish. The floors were covered with dark grey water, the building stank of dirty smoke.

The shopkeeper was, however, confident that he would be granted a space in a shopping center that will be built on the ruins of the burnt market.
There have been many rumors that the fire was not accidental but a well planned plot to get rid of the relatively rundown market quickly and effectively.



The 5.5 magnitude earthquake, some 160 kilometers east of Dhaka, had tragicomic consequences for our household.
That day my husband attended a meeting where he had been sitting in the same position for a long time. His legs were asleep when the tremors started. Everyone had to leave the building, and my husband wrenched his ankle while stumbling out. His foot first swelled like a dough, now it's blue.
So, I have "an earthquake casualty" in the house.

Let's hope that the year will have some good surprises, too. Happier 2017 everyone.

A nation in red and green

Bangladesh was dressed in red and green this week. The country celebrated its 45th Victory Day on Friday. 

The streets were crowded with people in red and green clothes, scarves and hats - the colors of the young nation. Cars, rickshaws, bikes, shops and office buildings were decorated with national flags in all sizes and shapes.

Bangladesh had a very bloody birth, followed by much violence and suffering. There has been a lot of progress but for a newcomer the country still looks like - I apologize - a mess. But the society seems to be functional, in a Bangla way.

I was lucky to be invited as a spouse to the President's Victory Day reception on Friday afternoon. Thousands of people were listening to patriotic music and mingling in the presidential garden, physically very close to thousands of poor people just outside the palace.

My husband attended the formal celebrations relay which started at dawn by wreath laying and continued by a military parade. 

I followed the parade on tv - it was a show-off of national pride and military muscles mixed with political propaganda.

Every single piece of the armed forces from fighter planes to attack elephants and army excavators were exhibited.

It is very dusty during the winter in Bangladesh but in the parade everything looked brand new and shiny. 

Photo credit for the parade pictures goes to my husband, the rest are my mobile phone shots.

On the personal note I feel very blessed just now. Both of my "babies" are visiting us in Dhaka. The whole family can be together for a couple of days. 

Happy holidays!

Super gloom

Lesserwisser has been hibernating a while. Actually I would like to wake up round 2020 and hope that the world still exists, people are wise and live in peace and harmony.

Unfortunately, the future looks more like I observed the super moon over Dhaka. Not very bright, not very big, rather super gloom. (Sunset in the picture above).

Terror, killings and violence are just escalating in Bangladesh. Recently the target have been Hindus and Santals. 

Hindu homes and temples in the eastern part of Bangladesh were under fierce attacks after a local youth allegedly shared a Facebook posting that Islamic hardliners said denigrated a holy site for Muslims.

Muslim hardliners protested and demanded action against the Hindu youth, who is illiterate and probably didn't write the posting.

Later at least four members of the indigenous Santal community were killed and more than thousand Santal families were forced to abandon their homes in the northern part of Bangladesh due to a land dispute. Santals belong to one of largest indigenous tribes in the area.

Radical islamism is tightening its grip of Bangladesh. This is also clearly visible in the streets of Dhaka where more and more women go more and more covered.

The pictures are taken from our building's roof top - the only place we can be outside in addition to expat clubs.

Life in Dhaka for foreigners gets more and more limited day by day. The streets are full of armed police men, check-points and security people. One is not supposed to walk at all. At the same time the traffic is, if possible, worse than ever. 

We are lucky to have the rooftop. With a pool, or rather an overgrown tub.

But I will never swim there after I saw a maid washing clothes in the pool. She had hung the washed items in the trees.

But not all is bad - I will start at a new part time job this week. At the moment the temperature is very pleasant, the air is not as polluted as in the winter and the mosquitoes haven't arrived yet.

Bangladeshi Star Wars

Terror attacks, earthquakes, demonstrations, suffocating traffic, extreme poverty, incredible wealth, misery, happiness, corruption, hope, despair.

Plus many other things.

Over 400 days down - who counts - some 300 to go - who counts.

Suddenly I am a senior in Dhaka. Now I have a faint idea of directions, places and people. I can tell where to get a haircut, what to wear, who to tip, what to eat and what not.

Still, every day in Dhaka is a big surprise - inspiring but also exhausting.

During the first year here I have become an expert in protecting myself. Due to the circumstances.

The day starts with brushing my teeth with filtered water to avoid diarrhea. This is worth mentioning since exactly today I have spent most of the day close to the bathroom.

The Dhaka water quality not only eats one´s inner organs but also hair. I have lost half  of my hair and will probably be totally bald when we move from Bangladesh.

Next: one lotion to protect the skin against the sun, another against mosquitoes.

All-body-covering clothes against stares and giggling. This never works, my wrinkled facial skin is a major attraction anyway.

At home we have two metal coffins full of equipment in case of an earthquake. Plus a satellite phone.

Seven locks, iron bars, armed guards before entering a car with tinted glasses for transport. 

Metal detectors at the entrance of the grocery store. Bullet proof windows. Armored cars. No-stay at the rooftop terrace because of potential snipers.

The list gets longer and longer, more and more advanced daily.

The security measures in Dhaka have become a kind of star wars between  embassies, organizations and companies. The bigger the guns, the safer the lives of the employees.

Maybe.

The security measures rule out the bad but also the good.

This is what the terrorists want: deprive people of their normal life, suffocate them with security and isolation, finish with insanity.

My private "counter terrorism" consists of small walks where I can observe the wild, crazy, inspiring life in Dhaka. 

Today´s pictures show how sewer renovation is done in this city. Talk of stamina, muscle power and low tech.

Tens of thounsand of (mostly) men have dreams of making a fortune in the Gulf states as foreign workers. They line up for hours for a medical attest in the heat or heavy rain or both.  

Often they have to borrow at least two years` salary for the paperwork and travel costs before they can earn any money.  Many never manage to pay their debts and end up working as badly treated slaves.

Every year half a million leave Bangladesh for a job in the neighboring countries. Manpower is number two export source after the garment industry.

Time for a little break from Dhaka, back in November.

Rivers of blood - wearing a saree

The morning of Eid-ul-Azha was rainy. People were slaughtering cattle in heavy showers. The animals were screaming, blood was flooding, poor people were gathering in front of better-offs´ houses for pieces of meat.

The rain continued, so did the slaughtering. 

The sewage system in Dhaka is not functional and soon the streets were flooded with blood and water.

We were driving in rivers of blood. The sight was both unique and shocking. 

I felt awful for the rikshaw pullers who had to pedal in the bloody mess. 

Eid-ul-Azha is the second largest Muslim festival, a very important celebration for all Bangladeshis. It´s all about sacrifice and devotion.

Unfortunately, the slaughtering part is too tough for me.

This year I was, however, looking forward to Eid since I was invited as a spouse to official arrangements and would wear a saree for the first time ever.

First times are hard. And this was not an exception.

The outfit consists of 5-6 meters of fabric, a petticoat and a short top. 

The fabric is draped elegantly around the body, with the help of the petticoat and safety pins. 

It looks easy. 

I tried the draping myself and ended up as a mummy. Decided to get help on the day of the event.

The top required more filling than I am blessed with. I was advised to wash the top so that it would shrink. 

Well, it didn´t but it was torn - and in relatively strategic places.

I repaired the holes and "fixed" the size. Handicraft is not my specialty. Not a good start for my saree career.

Finally the Eid morning came. But not the lady who was supposed to drape the saree. She didn´t pick up the phone, time was flying.

Internet tutorials were not very helpful unless I wanted the mummy version.

Desperation was close until our wonderful driver solved everything quickly. He connected me with a lady who did a good job. I was wearing a saree!

It was hard to walk, difficult to breathe and impossible to use the bathroom. 

But well worth the sacrifice. 

Selfies with cows and scares

 According to newspapers, life in Dhaka is becoming normal again. Locals are back in the streets, stores and cafees. Dhaka is as it should be: crazy busy, loud,colorful, sleepless, never ending - an Asian NYC.
Still, I have a feeling that somebody or something is tearing apart the society. Please, let me be wrong.



Eid-ul-Azha, the second biggest religious festival of the Muslims, is just round the corner. Cows, sheep, goats, camels will invade the city. Social media will be filled with cowfies - selfies with cows, a big thing in this country.
The  creatures will first be decorated, celebrated, cowfied and then slaughtered with a machete in the street. And finally served at lavish dinners.



After the brutal and bloody terror attack two months ago I am afraid that Eid this time will be a traumatic experience to many.  Bloody machetes and carving of carcasses in the streets are not exactly healing things.
Last year , the parking lot in our previous building became first a cowshed and then a slaughterhouse. Days after the celebrations, househelps were washing bowels and crushing bones in the basement. Weeks after, I felt the smell of blood.



We foreigners still need to stay at home. No stores, no cafees, no walking for us.
Therefore it was good to get a little breather in Myanmar a couple of weeks ago. One day with meetings, one day with sightseeing. Good to take pictures again. 
Based on thin and hasty first impressions, Myanmar looks like the new Thailand. Wonderful nature, rich history and genuine smiles. Amazing drive in a country that only recently was under the rule of an oppressive military junta.